


Mirror Mirror

by MissPennington



Category: Galavant (TV), Psych
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Male Friendships for the Win, Not a death fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2020-05-30 18:22:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 57,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19408810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissPennington/pseuds/MissPennington
Summary: Roberta teams up with a detective from another world to hunt down a jewelry thief. Shawn gives the whole "befriending Lassiter" thing the old college try. And Lassiter is pretty sure he's finally having the mental breakdown that therapists have been warning him about for years.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know the last thing this world needs is another Psych x Galavant crossover AU, but here we are. I have not seen all of Psych so any canonical errors are all part of this AU.
> 
> Also, I could not for the life of me find out if the von Falconburg sisters have first names, so I went with my usual of naming my villains after virtues.

Roberta Steingass stared down in faint horror as a servant placed her dinner plate on the table. It appeared to be some sort of roast bird with a kipper stuffed in its beak, and inside the mouth of the kipper was a small cooked frog. The plate was garnished with cabbage leaves cut to look like ripples in a very green pond. 

The lord with double chin and elaborate mustaches sitting beside her made a faint noise of appreciation. “A fine table as always, your highnesses.”

Princess Charity von Falconburg gave him a sly smile from her place at the head of the table. “I am so glad that you’re enjoying the food, Lord Goring.”

Princess Prudence von Falconburg echoed her sister’s smile. “Of course, with your appetite, you’d eat dog slop if we served it.”

The guests around the table burst into raucous laughter. Even Lord Goring managed a weak chuckle. Roberta forced herself to smile so to not seem like the odd man out and took a minuscule bite of her duck, if it was a duck. It tasted strongly of pickle juice.

When she had inherited her parent’s lands and the title of lady knight, Roberta had known that she would have to pay certain allegiances to the von Falconburg sisters. She had just thought it would mean taxes and going to war, not a monthly obligation to attend an interminable dinner party. The one saving grace was that Roberta’s smallish parcel of land meant that she was neither rich nor poor enough to be of notice to the two princesses. 

They finally reached the dessert course, and as everyone gossiped about people she didn’t know, Roberta was counting down the minutes until she could call for her horse.

“—and if Queen Helena decapitates this husband, she could make another full man with just the heads,” Princess Charity was saying, eyes lit with giddy maliciousness over the rim of her glass. She turned to say something more to her sister and gasped as one of her gold earrings fell into her bowl of pudding. “Disgusting!” 

“Gwen!” Prudence called to the servant girl struggling to serve six bowls at the far end of the table. “Go and fetch another pair for my sister. The silver with sapphires?” she said aside to Charity. 

Charity waved a hand at the girl. “First come get these out of here. And I expect to see them washed, polished, and returned to my rooms before I go to bed.”

Roberta watched the poor maidservant attempt to curtsy, nearly drop half the bowls, and then flounder between serving the guests and obeying the new commands. She rose to her feet. “Please, your highness, allow me to fetch the earrings for you.”

She bade a mournful goodbye to her time outside of the princess’ scrutiny as the cutting eyes of both women examined her. 

Charity’s gaze took in Roberta’s plain leather breastplate, her smile sad and condescending. “Are you sure, Roberta, dear? Judging from your lack of adornment, I wonder that you even know what earrings are.”

“You’d never see them through that red hair,” Prudence added.

Roberta gave a serene smile as the guests laughed. If all they could manage to criticize was her armor and hair, then the von Falconburg sisters were clearly losing their touch in their middle age. “I think I’ll manage.” She sketched a bow and headed out of the dining hall. 

She sighed in relief as the doors closed behind her, muting the laughter and blazing heat of the fireplace. If she took her time, she’d return with the earrings just as dinner was ending and then could make her goodbyes. 

Roberta purposely went to the opposite end of the castle and crossed the battlements to make her way to the north tower, nodding to the evening watchmen as she passed. The smell of Charity’s strong perfume greeted her as she approached the door to the princess' quarters, but Roberta paused as she heard someone clanking about inside the room.

Wondering if Charity hadn’t sent poor Gwen anyway, Roberta pushed open the door and peered inside. 

There were no servant girls in sight, but a figure in black armor stood with his back to her before Charity’s vanity. His visor was open, and with both hands, he shoveled the jewelry sitting on top into the open mouth of his helmet. 

Wondering how in the world he could see what he was doing with all that silver and gold hitting him in the face, Roberta placed a hand on the hilt of her sword sword. “Did you happen to see a pair of silver earrings with sapphires?”

The knight’s upper body turned to face her, the visor clanging shut on a string of pears, which pinged against his breastplate. Then his fist wrenched open, dropping a bracelet to the floor, and he stomped towards her. Roberta backed out into the hallway, drawing her sword. She dropped into a defensive stance, but the knight took a sharp turn down the hall without even acknowledging her. 

She had half a mind to just let him escape, but no doubt Gwen or some other servant would be blamed for the theft. So, sword still in hand, Roberta jogged after the broad figure. His heavy armor meant that he couldn’t go much faster than a brisk walk, so she caught up just as he reached the stairs. 

Roberta darted in front of him, holding out her sword to block his path. “You will return those—”

She was cut off by a blow from his gauntlet, which knocked her blade aside and sent her crashing down the stairs. Roberta’s world upended as she tumbled down the unforgiving stone. Her back the wall at the bottom, knocking the breath out of her.

She forced herself forward onto her hands and knees, hands scrambling to find her sword. She expected to feel either his hands or blade descend on her at any moment. But when she was finally able to get her bearings, she could only hear the clanging of his feet as he walked the other way on the level above.

Staggering to her feet, she limped back up the stairs as fast as she could manage. Her sword was resting on the second step from the top, and she scooped it up just in time to see the knight turn down the hallway past Princess Charity’s room.

Roberta charged after him around the corner, keeping well to the side to avoid any more blows, and staggered to a stop. The knight had reached the back of the short hallway. As she watched, he stepped right into the mirror hung on the wall at the end and vanished. 

Roberta walked slowly down the hall, watching her confused expression grow more pronounced as she approached the mirror. She rapped at the surface with her sword, but it only bounced off the surface. She felt around the edges, then the blocks of the stone wall behind it, searching for a hidden door or passage, but found nothing. 

Backing away from the mirror, her boots crunching on a string of fallen pearls, Roberta stared at her disheveled reflection. It looked like the von Falconburg sisters would have something else to criticize her about after all.

*****

“So let me get this straight. A man in black armor somehow managed to sneak his way in here past all the guards, climb the north tower, and then eat her highness’ jewelry?” Gareth asked, arms crossed. 

“No, I said he dumped the jewelry into the mouth of his helmet. Not his actual mouth.” Roberta rubbed at her temples in an attempt to quell her pounding headache. “Maybe he got in here through the mirror as well. I don’t know. I can only tell you what I saw.”

She had run into Gareth, the von Falconburg sisters’ henchman, on the way back from the tower and had been answering questions in the throne room ever since. The sun had long since set, casting the two princesses seated up on the dais in shadow.

Gareth leaned forward to point a finger in her face. “I think you’re lying. I think there was no black knight, and you stole the jewels yourself.”

“Maybe she ate them,” Prudence said. 

“Oh, come now, sister,” Charity responded, a demure hand over her mouth. “Roberta here wouldn’t know what to do with stolen jewelry. Although from what she told us about her fight with the thief, it doesn’t sound like she knows what to do with a sword either.”

“Or stairs,” Prudence added and both sisters giggled loudly.

Roberta felt her face heating. It had been stupid to try a direct attack on someone two stone heavier and at least a head taller than her. 

“I’ve been thoroughly searched,” she finally said, closing her eyes against the shine of the torches in the room. “We’ve looked through the entire north tower and haven’t found any place where I could have hidden the stolen jewelry. What more would you have me do to prove my innocence?”

“That’s easy,” Princess Prudence said, raising an eyebrow. “Find the real thief and return what was stolen.” 

“Every last anklet.” Princess Charity leaned forward to smirk down at her. “Or we’ll have Gareth here cut you open and make sure that you really didn’t eat them.”

Roberta blanched. “I live to serve, your highnesses.”

“I know you do,” Prudence said. “But just to be sure that you’re living to serve as well as you should, we’ll send Gareth to you tomorrow.”

“Just to keep an eye on things for us,” Charity said.

Roberta took in Gareth’s challenging stare and grimaced. 

And so Roberta rode off into the darkness, wondering just what a knight would do in her situation. She’d held the title for less than a year. She’d taught sword fighting at the rec center before that and didn’t have the slightest idea about how one went about finding a thief who could walk through mirrors.

An idea came to her then, and she kicked her horse into a faster clip. Didn’t the local wizard in the village near her home have an enchanted mirror for sale in his shop? At the very least, he might be able to tell her just how her thief had escaped. 

***

A day later and three sovereigns poorer, Roberta staggered up the stairway to her chambers with her newly purchased enchanted mirror hefted under one arm. It was a dusty old thing, with a warped surface and rough wooden frame standing on rickety legs. Sal the Wondrous, wizard proprietor of Sal’s Shoppe of Wonderful Wonders, had tried to upgrade her to a gilded frame, but seeing as she might be spending every coin she had on replacement jewelry soon enough, Roberta had gone with the cheapest option.

Sal had been less than helpful in providing information, however. He knew the spell that could create a doorway out of a mirror and connect it to a specific mirror somewhere else, but there was no way to tell where it led to once the spell had ended. The spell was a common one, and any number of wizards could perform it. He couldn’t make her new mirror take her to the black knight. And to top it all off, Sal had been holding a flash sale the previous evening, and thus, had witnesses who could prove that he hadn’t had a black knight loaded with stolen jewelry in his shop.

The wooden legs of the mirror rattled as Roberta set it down with some force inside her sitting room. It was technically the consort’s bedroom, but Roberta didn’t think it likely that the position would ever be filled, so the room now housed her favorite chair and weapons racks. 

Pulling the protective cloth free, Roberta peered hard at her reflection. She pictured the stolen jewelry in her mind, although she wasn’t sure what exactly to expect. Sal had assured her that the mirror would show her the key to finding the lost item, but he had been vague about just what that meant.

Roberta made a face at herself in the mirror, and the surface rippled. And then it wasn’t her reflection anymore. 

A dark and silver-haired, clean shaven man startled back, hands midway through tying a slip of cloth around his neck. His back hit the corner of the wall behind him, and he gaped at her, eyes comically wide.

Roberta cleared her throat. “I don’t suppose you know anything about a black knight?”

“What the hell?” he responded, voice high with shock. 

Well, it didn’t look like he was the knight. He was too tall, for one thing. Roberta’s gaze swept his surroundings. He was at the end of a white hallway, with what appeared to be a sitting room of sorts through the passage behind him. Judging from his clothes and strange home, he wasn’t from any realm she knew. 

She returned her attention back to the stranger in time to see his expression harden. He approached his own side of the mirror, and her view shifted as he tilted it away from the wall. She could hear a scratching and ripping sound as he scrabbled at the back. 

Roberta came over to peer at him from the side of the mirror. “Sorry, but who are you?”

He paused to glare at her. “My name is Carlton Lassiter. I’m the head detective of the Santa Barbara Police Force.” When she only looked at him blankly, he continued, “Which means that when I find out exactly how you were able to put some sort of monitor in my home, I will see that you are prosecuted to the full extent of the law.”

She didn’t understand most of what he had said, so Roberta simply watched as he finished pulling up the material from the back of the mirror. He pulled the frame farther forward, and she heard him tap on the back of the glass. It must not have produced the effect he wanted, because his brow furrowed. 

He dropped the frame back against the wall, taking an unsteady step backwards. “This never happened,” he said as if talking to himself. Then he walked into the sitting room and vanished from sight.

The mirror rippled again, and Roberta was once again staring at her own bemused expression.

She took a step back from the mirror and sighed. “I want my money back.”

*****

Detective Carlton Lassiter crouched down beside the body of the hiker, pulling open the neck of the waterproof jacket with a gloved hand to examine his back. Judging from the position of the arms and legs, at least one of each had been broken, but he’d have to wait for the autopsy for the internal damage.

“So what do you say, Lassie?” asked Shawn Spencer, the department’s so-called psychic consultant. “Karaoke tonight? I know you belt out Nicki Minaj when you’re alone.”

Shawn had been inviting him to do all sorts of inane activities lately, no doubt in hopes of getting an embarrassing video or to set Lassiter up for some further humiliation. Lassiter ignored him, instead examining the cliff above them and the trail leading into the national park on the other side. The sky was overcast, and the wind was picking up, making the surrounding trees rustle. 

Juliet O’Hara, Lassiter’s partner, took another picture of the victim’s position. “Description matches a Trent Martin. He was reported missing yesterday on a hiking trip near here.” She walked over to the opposite side of the body, and Lassiter waited for her to ask for his thoughts. But instead she looked to Shawn. “Are you sensing anything?”

He raised two fingers to his temple. “The forest spirits—”

Lassiter stood. “I’m going to take a look at the top of the cliff.” He was in no mood for the theatrics today. Especially after his brief, inexplicable, would-never-happen-again hallucination this morning. “It’s obvious misadventure. He was probably trying to take a photo and fell.”

O’Hara followed his gaze to sheer rock face rising above the treetops. “I don’t know, Carlton. I don’t see a phone lying around here, and he doesn’t even have a wallet on him. Isn’t that kind of weird?”

“That’s why I want to check the top. There will be signs if there was someone else with him.”

“I’ll go with you,” Shawn said, coming around to follow Lassiter.

“No, you stay here with the body,” Lassiter said, swinging around to point back at Martin. “You and the mystical spirits can be here when forensics arrives.”

Shawn put a hand to his chest. “Lassie, I’m shocked. Don’t the regulations say that you aren’t supposed to go off alone like this? Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t try to take a selfie and go tumbling off the cliff yourself.” 

On any other day, Lassiter would have caved and suffered through Spencer tagging along, but his use of the hated nickname grated on Lassiter’s nerves even more so than usual. Plus, although Lassiter didn’t believe for a second that Shawn could read minds or see dead people or whatever his ever-changing powers were supposed to be, it was true that he did seem to know things that he shouldn’t have been able to know. And Lassiter was ever so slightly nervous that Shawn might be able to tell that he’d hallucinated a woman in his mirror that morning. 

So he turned and got right into Shawn’s face, using his six feet of height to his advantage. “I don’t have time for your immature joking and playing around right now. We are at a crime scene, not out for a pleasure trip. So stay out of my way.”

He saw a flash of hurt cross Shawn’s face for a moment before Juliet came over to lead the supposed psychic back to the body. “Weren’t you about to tell me that you could sense something?” She shot Lassiter a reproachful look, which he ignored as he turned away to trek deeper into the woods towards the path to the top of the cliff. 

The silence that descended was a relief. Lassiter reached into his pocket and withdrew a bottle of Pepto-Bismol tablets. Downing two, he waited for them to ease his stomach ache. He’d had one intermittently for a few days, which he blamed entirely on acid reflux triggered by irritation with having to deal with Spencer on a daily basis. 

He knew that he’d pay later for that display of aggression. The Chief barely listened to his complaints about Shawn anymore, and all the times he’d written Spencer up for insubordination or breaking protocol had somehow ended with Lassiter being the one under harsher restrictions. 

But beyond that, Lassiter was tired. Tired of being the only one sticking to the rules. Tired of following the clues step by careful step only to reach the end of the trail to find Spencer had somehow jumped ahead days ago and was waiting with a stupid grin for Lassiter to catch up. Tired of having to fight just to do his damned job.

He hiked further down the path, keeping an eye out for anything that the victim or possible killer might have dropped. He was just looking at a trunk that appeared to have blood on its bark but was likely just tree sap when he turned and had his second shock of the day.

A suit of armor was standing just off the path. 

Lassiter drew his weapon but stopped before raising it when he registered that the armor was entirely too still for anyone to be inside of it. “Police! I’m armed,” he called out.

He approached the armor and tapped the breastplate with his gun. It echoed hollowly. Reholstering his weapon, he pulled open the visor and peered down inside. The armor was dark gray or possibly black, but it was light enough outside to tell that, as suspected, it was empty. There was something shiny hooked onto the metal where the inside of the helmet met the neck area. Frowning, Lassiter reached inside and pulled out a gold earring.

The armor moved suddenly, grabbing Lassiter by the front of his shirt with one hand and lifting him off of his feet. Lassiter let out a shocked sound, scrabbling at the metal wrist in panic as he was slammed up against the nearest tree.

Keeping him pinned against the trunk, Lassiter’s attacker used one metal-covered hand to pry open Lassiter’s fingers and grab the earring. Then, as Lassiter watched with growing horror, the visor on the helmet slowly rose on its own. There was still nothing inside. No face. No robotics. He only saw the inside of the back of the helmet and then down into the empty cavity behind the breastplate. 

The metal hand threw the earring into the gaping mouth of its helmet as if tossing back a pill. Then it reached towards him again. He struggled, breath strangling against the arm pressed hard into the center of his chest as the armor went for his pants pocket. “Hey!” he gasped out in indignation as it removed his wallet.

The armor swallowed that too, along with his only pair of sunglasses. Then its fingers bunched in the front of his shirt, and it tossed him sideways into the brush.

His clothing snagged on the tangle of branches as he tried to escape, but the armor turned robotically and marched off into the woods. As he watched it disappear into the trees, Lassiter said for the second time that day, “What the hell?”

*****

Lassiter startled when O’Hara put her hand on his shoulder. “Carlton, we’re at your place.”

He blinked out the window of the car, realizing that they had pulled up in front of his house. He’d been lost in his own thoughts for most of the drive out of the forest.

O’Hara leaned over to examine his eyes. “I really think we should take you in to a clinic.”

Lassiter reached for the handle, hiding an ill-timed wince as the movement disturbed what he was sure would be spectacular bruises on his chest and back. “I’m fine. It’s just a few scratches.”

Juliet looked less than convinced. Before they had left the forest, Lassiter had managed to bluff his way out of her taking him in to see a doctor, telling her that he had tripped and gotten entangled in some brush, but she had insisted on driving.

Spencer, as always, just had to be even more difficult. He accused Lassiter of actually trying his selfie idea, which rankled, but his silent scrutiny from the back seat of the car was disconcerting.

“I’m fine,” Lassiter repeated, meeting Juliet’s penetrating gaze with his own. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t you dare dent my car.”

“We’ll pick you up,” she said, leaning sideways again to keep an eye on him as he got out of the car and went to his door.

Lassiter scowled at his mailbox, which had once again been smashed in. His front door had another notch gouged into the bottom as well. The delinquents were clearly counting something, and that something was the times they had gotten away before Lassiter could catch them in the act and press charges. 

He engaged his alarm system, vowing to get a security camera for his front door in the next few days. Of course, with his luck, they would vandalize that too. 

He hesitated halfway across the living room, tugging loose his tie. He didn’t think he could handle having another hallucination. But now that he had been attacked by an empty suit of armor, he wasn’t sure what to make of the mirror. 

He unbuttoned the first few buttons on his shirt and pulled it forward so he could look at the damage. And wouldn’t you know, there was a deep purple bruise blossoming in the center of his chest. How did a hallucination explain that? And his wallet and sunglasses were still missing. 

He did not look at the mirror as he made his way down the hall towards his bedroom but realized that not looking was just making him more nervous. So he glanced over at it as he passed by. And just as he hoped that it wouldn’t, the surface of the mirror began to shimmer.

The redheaded woman swam into view, in mid-tirade with a somewhat greasy man that he hadn’t seen before. She gestured to Lassiter. “And look, there he is again!”

Lassiter reached up to rub at his eyes. “You have got to be kidding me.”

The other man, who was wearing garnish robes and a pointy hat, gave her a flat look. “I don’t see what the problem is. You asked for a mirror that would show you things, and Wondrous Sal delivered.”

“I didn’t ask to see just anything,” she responded. “I asked to see the location of the black knight. And he,” she nodded in Lassiter’s direction, “is not the black knight.”

“My ladyship Roberta,” the man who called himself Sal said, clasping his hands. “Magic is not an instant solution to all your problems. There has to be some irritating caveat or twist, otherwise people would never solve anything themselves. When you bought this enchanted mirror, I told you it would give you the key to find the lost item. So whatever that means, that’s what it did. But I also told you the most important thing of all: Wondrous Sal does not give refunds. So good day!” He gave them both a curt smile and then disappeared from Lassiter’s view.

The woman, Roberta, watched the direction where he had gone with an indignant expression before turning back to Lassiter. She blinked as she finally took him in. “What happened to you?”

Lassiter self-consciously pulled his suit jacket closed over his torn and dirty shirt. “What did you mean by black knight?” He knew that he would kick himself later for giving in and engaging with whatever insanity was going on here, but his detective’s mind was leaping at the possibility of a connection.

She gave his appearance another dubious expression before responding dryly, “A knight who wears black armor. Last seen shoving various pieces of jewelry inside his helmet.”

The gold earring vanishing into the gaping black mouth of the helmet flashed into his mind’s eye. He took a deep breath, feeling more than a little unhinged, and pushed forward. “Do you know what he looks like underneath the armor?”

“No, his visor was down. Does this mean that you’ve see him?” She took a step forward, voice eager.

“I didn’t see anything. Literally.” He was suddenly struck by the urge to break into uncontrollable giggling and pressed a hand over his mouth. 

“Is everything okay?” he heard her ask quietly. 

Exhausted, bruised, and pride smarting from his mugging by a literal walking suit of armor, Lassiter gave a last ditch effort to salvage his sanity. “I’m going to go attempt to get a full eight…five hours of sleep. After that, I’m going to eat something. And maybe then I’ll believe that all of this is actually happening,” he challenged her.

He firmly looked away from the mirror and went to his bedroom. And the last thing he heard before he shut the door firmly behind him was her morose, “Guess I’m solving this crime by myself then.”

*****

Roberta bit her tongue as she finished the last brush stoke on the sheet of parchment. She wasn’t the strongest reader in the kingdom, let alone scribe, but she rather thought her sign announcing the upcoming jousting tournament looked quite fetching. She had even made a passing drawing of a plumed helmet surrounded by piles of gems in the center. 

Knights from all over the kingdom would come to her castle to compete, and if her black armored thief was one of them, then she would be ready.

So far, it was the best plan she’d come up with. After the meeting the irritating twist or caveat that was Carlton Lassiter, she’d decided that she was done with magical solutions. The last thing she needed was to waste more time and sovereigns on enchanted mirrors. 

A commotion from down the hall made Roberta pause midway between reaching for a fresh sheet of parchment. Poking her head out of the door of her sitting room, she was surprised to see most of her staff standing in a line down in the main hall. As she only had seven people running her castle, it was a short line.

Trotting down the stairs, she walked up to Barnabas, the cook. “What’s going on here?”

“Gareth is speaking with each of us one by one,” he replied, giving the door to the dining room at the head of the line a look that deviated between anxious and irritated.

“What? He only arrived half an hour ago.” Roberta went to the dining room doors, taking the place of the shaking stableboy that was about to go inside.

Gareth was siting to the side of her dining room table, scribbling indecipherable notes on his own sheet of parchment. “I said, next!” he roared without looking up.

“What’s all this, then?” Roberta asked, moving to stand next to him.

“Good, you’re here,” he said, rising and wiping ink-stained hands on his leather breeches. “You can help with the interrogations.”

“What interrogations?”

“To find the thieves and crooks in your staff here.”

“These people all worked for my parents. I’ve known them for years.”

“Doesn’t mean they can’t be criminals.” He thrust the smeared parchment into her hands. “Look what I’ve already uncovered.”

Roberta squinted at his writing. “It says here that Lester the kitchen boy stole an apple from the market…three years ago.”

“Right. A thief,” Gareth said, crossing his arms with a satisfied grin.

“And Hans the evening watch guard clocked out early on Friday last week.” She looked up at him over the top of the parchment, one eyebrow raised. “You can’t be serious.”

“It’s called time theft. The princesses would have him in the stocks for a week.”

“I’m not Prudence or Charity,” Roberta replied, setting the paper down on the table. “What did you do with them?”

“Threw ‘em in the dungeons obviously. And by the way, that courtyard of yours would fit a nice little gallows.” 

“Well, go get them out of the dungeons! They’re pardoned.” 

Gareth looked less than pleased at having his prey released. “You’ll never catch the jewelry thief like that. If he even exists.” 

Roberta frowned at him before pulling out one of her flyers. “Gareth, I’m planning a fake jousting tournament to lure the thief in. Do you think you could help construct a tilt fence on the grounds?” She handed him the somewhat crumpled parchment.

Gareth eyed it with a flat expression before stuffing it into his pocket. “Yeah, all right. But then I’m doing a thorough search for stolen goods.”

It was better than trying to execute her servants at least. She noticed his bag lying beside the chair. “Fine. You can take the rooms in the south tower. I made them up this morning.”

He turned to eye her. “Rooms?”

“Yeah, you can’t just sleep on the floor.”

He shrugged, and she realized that the floor was exactly where he had been planning on sleeping. She watched as he shouldered his bag, which clanked with what had to be a disconcerting amount of chains, and then he pushed through the servants still waiting outside. 

Roberta rubbed her inky fingers together, frowning. Hopefully that would keep him too busy to notice that her current investigation was at a bit of a dead end. Speaking of which, she was going to dump that useless mirror down in the cellars with the her parent’s old furniture. 

But upon entering her quarters, she found herself staring unseeing into the mirror’s depths. Carlton’s rooms were not visible through the glass, but she could hear their last conversation so clearly in her mind.

He had asked her about the black knight. Had asked her about who it could be beneath the armor. And now that she thought about it, “I didn’t see anything. Literally,” could mean a lot of things. 

Struck by the sudden urge to talk to him again before abandoning her best lead, Roberta reached up to knock on the mirror’s surface. Her assumption was that the mirror was only working when Carlton’s rooms where visible. So it came as a great surprise when her fist went through the mirror and the rest of her body right after. 

She barely managed to catch herself before hitting the floor, her momentum carrying her forward up against the opposite wall. She held her breath for a moment, wondering if Carlton, or any servants he might employ, had heard her. But the rooms around her were silent and empty. 

She breathed out a sigh of relief as she released her grip on the wall. Judging from how well he had responded to just speaking to her, she didn’t think that Carlton would take it well to find out that she’d invaded his home. 

Although now that she was getting a closer look at the strangeness of the rooms around her, she realized that tracking down the black knight, if he indeed had also traveled to this world through a mirror, was going to be slightly more difficult in an unfamiliar land. The first step would have to be dogging Carlton’s movements. Either he would lead her to the knight, or she would confront him and find out once and for all what he knew.

Her confidence rose as she stepped into the sitting room and saw the shadow of a tree upon the window. She opened it and gave a satisfied smile as she found a very small yard with a tree and short grass on the other side. This world was very different from her own, but there were still some similarities it seemed. She felt fairly confident in her ability to track down Carlton, even if he were on the other side of whatever sort of village this was. 

The building wasn’t much larger than a hovel, but it took her a few tries to find the front door. There was a little box next to it producing a ringing sound like a high-pitched bell and flashing a red light. Roberta eyed it with mistrust as she figured out the locking mechanisms on the door. In a few moments she had it open and stepped backwards outside to shut it. 

A man in dark blue shirt and pants with close-cropped blond hair appeared beside her in an instant, gasping her about the waist and shoving her hard onto the ground. Roberta tried to roll out from under him, one hand going for her sword, but he ground down on her back with a knee, and her arms were caught and bound behind her with shackles. 

Breath forced out of her lungs, she gasped as she was hauled up painfully by her arms. “You picked the wrong house to burgle, lady,” he grunted. 

Roberta started to strike out at her captor, but her attention was caught by the deep black road beyond the house, the colorful buildings lining it, and the loud roar of something flying overhead. She gaped at the strangeness of this new world, more strange than she could have even imagined. The man who had attacked her was yelling something at her, but it just added to the hectic noise around her. She was then jerked forward and forced into the back of some sort of carriage. 

And as the enchanted carriage began moving forward without being pulled by a horse, having lost her second fight in less than two days, Roberta realized that she was perhaps a bit out of her depth.


	2. Chapter 2

Lassiter leaned over the map spread across his desk, examining the possible trails that Martin might have taken before his death. He’d asked O’Hara to drop him him off at the precinct to get some work done while she picked up Shawn. It’d given him some valuable time to plan before they all headed out to the forest again.

He was feeling altogether better and more in control now that it was morning. He’d stayed up most of the night working, but he had managed a few bites of cereal with his chair defiantly pulled up in front of the mirror, and no armor-wearing women or skeevy wizards had appeared. 

Calming logic had fully reasserted itself now that he was back at work. Thank god he had a murder to solve. Lassiter could and had ignored all sorts of personal problems, up to and including his failed marriage, while focusing on a case. 

He was more than ready to head back out to the crime scene without any fear of seeing things that weren’t real. Although if he had a chance to go off on his own again, he wouldn’t mind hunting for his missing wallet. No doubt he would find that he’d just seen a man-shaped tree or something out there, but he would be hard-pressed to explain anything to O’Hara and Spencer if he happened to find his wallet beneath it. It was bad enough suddenly letting O’Hara ferry him around everywhere after years of him being the sole driver. 

He moved one hand from where it was braced on his desk to press against his stomach. The nausea from breakfast hadn’t abated. Maybe it was time to admit that he was coming down with some sort of stomach bug. He wished he had remembered to bring his tablets in that morning. 

“Hey, Lassiter, got a present for you!” 

Still examining his map, Lassiter frowned as Officer Franke’s booming voice echoed across the room. “Yes, what is it?” he asked without looking up.

“Your security company called in an alarm at your place. I caught this little lady trying to sneak out the front.”

That got Lassiter’s attention. So far none of the delinquents had managed to break into his house. 

He turned around to see which of his former arrests Franke had collared and felt the world shift on its axis. Franke had Roberta standing next to him, her hands cuffed behind her. 

The officer apparently took Lassiter’s open-mouthed silence as approval because he grinned wider. “Look what she had on her.” He dropped a sword in its scabbard onto his desk. “You want me to go and book her now or do you want to go a few rounds with her in interrogation?” Franke asked, hauling Roberta up so that her feet nearly left the ground.

She made a soft sound of pain at the movement, and Lassiter felt his jaw clench. He moved forward, pushing Franke away. “Get these off of her.”

“I don’t understand. You said you wanted to catch the punks that had been vandalizing your place.” 

Franke went to unlock the cuffs, but Lassiter took the key from him and began to do it himself. “She wasn’t vandalizing anything.” He struggled for a moment to figure out how to explain Roberta’s presence before deciding that he didn’t have to explain anything. “Next time I want you to use better judgement before just arresting anyone you see at my house.”

Hands now free, Roberta moved to put Lassiter between herself and Franke. Lassiter tried to gauge if she had been hurt. The other cop had been written up for being overly aggressive with suspects before. 

Franke held up his hands. “Sorry, Lassiter. You should teach your _friend_ the security code next time.”

“I”m sorry, officer, did you hear me ask for your advice?”

“No,” Franke said, taking a step back. “I’ll just be going then.”

Lassiter made sure to keep his gaze on the the officer as he slunk from the bullpen before turning back to Roberta, who had dropped into the seat beside his desk.

“Your guards are very diligent, my lord.”

“He’s not my— Never mind.” He moved to sit in his own chair, leaning his forearms onto his knees so he could examine her and half hoping that she would vanish upon closer inspection. “How is this possible?”

“I’m not sure. I didn't know that my mirror would let me walk right into your home.”

Lassiter rubbed a hand down his face. “Great. Now there’s an open door into my living room from wherever the hell you come from. I can’t believe this is happening.” 

“Why do you doubt what’s right in front of you? We’ve spoken twice, and you heard and plainly saw me each time.”

“Because there’s no such thing as magic mirrors and walking suits of armor!”

He realized his mistake when Roberta’s eyebrows rose. “Walking suits of armor?”

Lassiter scowled at her. “Maybe I saw a suit of armor in the forest the other day.”

“I knew it. You have to show me where.”

“The only place you’re going is back through that mirror.” Lassiter sat up again, placing a hand on the map. “I can’t just have a woman from another world or time period or wherever wandering around my crime scene.”

“What is a crime scene?”

“It’s a place where a crime was committed. Or suspected to have been committed.” 

“I don’t supposed someone was robbed there?” she asked. 

Lassiter thought with some embarrassment of his missing wallet and sunglasses, but he did not bring it up. The last thing he needed was to give her a reason why he would want to look for this knight. “No, we found a body. And I need to focus on finding the killer before I waste my time on a wild goose chase through the wilderness after an imaginary knight with a woman who I have no reason to trust.”

His tried and true method of riling up an opponent and thereby mentally shoving them back bounced harmlessly off of Roberta’s self-possessed exterior. She just looked back at him thoughtfully for a moment before her eyes lit. “What if I helped you find your killer in this wilderness? If he’s in the forest, then I can track him. And in return, you will take me to where you saw the knight.”

Pinned by her steady eyes and the elegant curve of her mouth, Lassiter responded, “I can’t just take a random civilian onto a crime scene. It’s against protocol.” It sounded weak even to him. 

Roberta gave him a pointed smile. “I’m guessing that having a ‘walking suit of armor’ wandering around your crime scene is against protocol as well?”

Lassiter rose to his feet, rubbing a hand over his brow. It was insane. It was completely insane. Yet the part of him that always pushed him to his limits to catch the bad guy, to right an injustice, was pushing him now towards this impossible woman. They were already meeting a K9 unit and a team of volunteer trackers, so it wouldn’t be so obvious having a stranger on-site. More importantly, he needed to move fast on this one. The case was already in danger of being taken out of their jurisdiction by the feds for being so close to the national forest.

And as much as he hated to admit it, that same part of him was almost starting to wonder if the armor, if it was even real, hadn’t had something to do with Martin’s death. 

“If I let you do this, then you have to follow my lead.” Lassiter gave her his sternest look. “No telling anyone about who you are, where you came from, or why you’re really here. My word is law, understand?”

The corner of her mouth tipped up. “I live to serve, my lord.”

She stood up and reached for the sword on his desk, but Lassiter stopped her hand. “No, no weapons. You can’t just carry a sword out into a crime scene.”

“We’re hunting a knight who’s already attacked me once. You can’t expect me to go unprotected.”

Lassiter felt the ache of his bruises and sighed. “Is there a way you can hide it?”

She grasped the sword by its scabbard and looked around. “Do you have a dressing room here?”

Lassiter guided her to the women’s bathroom, grateful that the station was nearly deserted just then, and waited outside with his back against the wall. He thought with longing of even three days ago when the only things he had to worry about were wrapping up a hit and run and replacing his stolen trash can. His world had gotten so much larger and more complex since then.

His phone buzzed, and Lassiter pulled it out of his pocket. O’Hara had texted him a picture of her and Spencer sitting in his car, both wearing sunglasses and looking cooly off in opposite directions. The message beneath read, _Your ride awaits._

He slowly dropped his phone to his side as he realized that he would have to take Roberta out to the site with O’Hara and Spencer in the same car.

****

Roberta approached what Carlton had called a car, which she assumed was short for carriage, with trepidation. She had hardly had an enjoyable ride last time she’d been in one. But as Carlton held the back door open for her, she saw that the interior of this one did not resemble a cage at least.

She slid inside, careful to keep her back straight, and found another man sitting on the other side of the padded bench. He was looking out the window beside him and spoke as he turned towards her. “Aw, Lassie, are you sitting next—” His face fell briefly upon seeing her before he gave her a large smile. “Holy, Robin Hood, Batman. Who are you?”

“This is Roberta,” Carlton spoke as he got in the front seat opposite a blonde woman. “Roberta, this is Juliet O’Hara, my partner. And you’re sitting next to Shawn Spencer, a consultant. Roberta’s a friend of mine,” he added to the woman beside him, Juliet. “She’s an experienced tracker, so I’m bringing her along to help trace Martin’s steps.”

“And then hit the Renaissance fair?” Shawn asked, his gaze taking in her clothing.

Roberta gave an inward sigh, remembering the von Falconburg sisters’ comments on her outfit. “This is what I usually wear.” 

“It looks great.” He leaned forward so that his head was next to Carlton’s chair. “Lassie, you made a friend?”

“Yes, she’s a friend! I do have friends,” Carlton huffed.

Juliet did something with her hands, making the car vibrate and roar. They began to roll forward. “Pleased to meet you, Roberta. How do you know Carlton?”

True to his hurried order of “just let me do the talking” on the way out to the car, Carlton spoke before she could respond. “We met at a medieval reenactment.” 

Shawn looked over at Roberta. “What role does Lassie here play in medieval times? Grog boy? Dancing bear?”

Roberta frowned at his mocking tone of voice. “He’s a knight.” 

“With a lance and warhorse and everything?”

Remembering him saving her from the clutches of the guard, Roberta thought carefully before answering. “He’s a just knight and a worthy friend.” 

She saw Carlton watching her in the mirror hung from the car’s roof, expression unreadable. Worried that she may have offended him, Roberta turned her attention out the window. Fortunately the conversation moved on into a discussion on whether reenactments were a genuine way to experience military history or an excuse for adults to play dress up, and she was able to pass the rest of the ride in silence.

This new world was overwhelming in its strangeness. Bright colors and lights everywhere. Strange new words written on every building and sign. It all flew by at breakneck speed outside the car. Roberta gave up on taking it all in, letting her eyes slip out of focus and concentrating on the task ahead.

She came back to the present when the car stopped, and something in her relaxed upon seeing the forest outside of the window. Here at last was a place where she felt comfortable.

She climbed out as the others did and followed them over a group of about ten people, some of them with hunting dogs. They murmured in barely contained excitement upon seeing Shawn, who gave them a roguish smile in return. 

She watched with surprise as Carlton went to the front of the group and motioned for everyone to quiet down. “My name is Carlton Lassiter. I’m head detective with the Santa Barbara Police Department. The victim, Trent Martin, was found at the bottom of the drop off at the edge of this lot. I’ve marked the location on the map in your handout.” 

There was a rustling as everyone flipped through their parchments. Roberta took the opportunity to look over at the drop off. The area near the edge had been marked off with fluttering bright yellow ribbons and numbered markers on the ground. Wide swaths of tree-covered mountains were visible beyond. She edged closer for a better look. 

“We’re going to retrace Martin’s steps. If you find anything, items he may have dropped, signs that he may have been hiking with someone, alert myself and Detective O’Hara immediately.” Carlton’s eyes sharpened as he looked out over the crowd. “Something more interesting caught your attention, Spencer?”

The group turned as one to look back at Shawn, who was folding his parchment into the shape of some sort of animal. Shawn raised his head, taking in the staring crowd. Then he put two fingers to his temple, crying out. “I see— I see…a man! In an orange jacket. With brown eyes and red hair.”

“That’s him! That’s Martin!” A woman near the front cried excitedly, waving her sheets of parchment. 

Roberta looked back at Carlton, confused, but he was too busy shooting daggers at Shawn to notice. 

Shawn raised a trembling hand to sweep the air in a circle. “His aura’s growing stronger. It’s telling me to go this way!” He staggered off into the wood as if being dragged by his outstretched hand. 

Roberta was jostled by the excited group heading after him en masse. Even the dogs seemed eager to walk beside him. Juliet followed as well, casting an apologetic look back at Carlton. Roberta cut her way back towards Carlton, who had his fists clenched so tight that it had to hurt. 

“What was that?” she asked, coming to stand beside him.

“That was ten hours of carefully planned search grids down the drain. Like hell is he taking my tracking team on some sort of wild goose chase,” he snarled, pushing forward after the herd.

Roberta caught his arm. “We want to go this way.” She pointed off into the woods in the opposite direction.

“What? Why?”

She turned him to face away from Shawn and the hunting party. “See this print here?” She carefully placed the toe of her boot beside a set of footprints in the dust off the path. “Those are the tracks of someone wearing a suit of armor.”

Carlton eyed the prints with a doubtful expression. “How do you know they’re not from a pair of hiking boots?”

Roberta nudged him forward a few steps to where the prints left the clearing. “The thin lines across the center are from where each plate meets the next. See how deeply they’re pressed into the earth? Whoever was wearing these was much heavier than the average man.” 

Having given him a chance to join her, she released his shoulders and started off into the woods. The tracks weren’t exactly difficult to follow; the black knight had obviously blundered through the woods without much thought to covering his trail. After a moment, she grinned to herself as she heard Carlton curse and then crash through the underbrush after her. It seemed he had realized that it was better than following around a hoard of people and dogs all day.

It would have been faster, and quieter, for her to track down their quarry on her own, but for some reason she wanted to help Carlton out. Maybe it was because Shawn’s mocking had rankled her in the same way that the von Falconburg sisters’ did. Or maybe it was the kindness he had shown in freeing her from the clutches of the guard. It had been at odds with the uncooperative surliness he had only shown her so far. She wasn't sure how to take his measure.

They had been walking for nearly an hour when Roberta spotted a large clearing ahead and dropped down into a crouch beneath a tree. She could see several dilapidated wooden buildings, their windows dark and broken, in the open space. The footprints reached hard packed earth a few feet in and then became hard to follow. 

Carlton pushed a branch out of his face and took in the clearing. “It’s an old sawmill.”

Roberta saw movement through a window in the largest of the buildings and darted forward. She pelted across the barren ground to the edge of the structure. Scaling the stairs up to a wooden platform, she went for the door at the far end. 

She found herself herself in what Carlton had called a sawmill, which she gathered was a place where trees were cut down and stripped of limbs and bark. Stacks of logs were piled in rows down the center of the room, and she could see axes and saws hanging from the walls. Down to her right was an enormous circular blade sticking out of a trench in the floor.

Carlton ran into the room a moment later. “Roberta, we are trespassing,” he hissed. “I need a warrant before we go charging in here.”

“But this is where the tracks led!”

“We don’t even know whose tracks they were!”

A rattle from farther in the room startled them both. Roberta moved towards it, keeping low. There was something about the enormous gloom of the building that made her uneasy.

She peered around a pile of logs, Carlton coming up behind her to look over her head, and there was the black knight standing not fifteen feet away. He was digging into a metal box resting on a table, pulling out handfuls of nails and then stuffing them down inside his helmet like a child gobbling down chunks of cake.

Carlton breathed out a curse. “This is never going to hold up in court.”

Roberta drew back, pushing Carlton a step further behind the logs with her. Then she reached down the back of her shirt and drew the sword strapped to her back. 

Suddenly, there came the crash of something heavy against wood, and the ten-foot pile of stripped logs toppled towards them. Roberta’s breath was forced from her lungs as Carlton caught her around the waist, hefted her up, and tossed her to the side. 

She hit the ground, rolling to get out of the way of the collapsing logs and came up on her feet. She turned to see if Carlton had been crushed, but her attention was caught by the black metal figure charging towards her, arms outstretched. 

Swiping at him with her blade, she smacked both the hands to the side and broke away. She knew better than to engage the knight directly this time. 

She went over on the opposite side of the logs where she had more room, running past Carlton. He was on his feet, but his face was contorted with pain. “Are you all right?” she called.

“My foot’s caught.” He tried to pull his leg free of the fallen logs around him but stopped with a hiss of breath.

The knight had regained his balance and charged for her again. She didn’t remember him moving so fast the last she had seen him. Most of her energy went into ducking and weaving away from his attempts to grab her.

She struck out at his chest but overreached, leaving her side exposed. The knight caught her shoulder with a powerful blow, sending her to the ground. She raised her arm to deflect any strikes at her head as the knight advanced on her.

There were several loud claps of noise, and Roberta flinched away as several holes appeared in the knight’s breastplate. He turned in an instant and stalked towards Carlton.

The detective had some sort of weapon trained on the knight. It flashed briefly and there was another of those loud noises, but the knight kept clomping forward. Making a noise of irritated disbelief, Carlton pulled something small and box-shaped out of his pocked and tossed it to the right, away from both himself and Roberta. 

To her surprise, the knight followed it like an arrow to a target. He went to one knee, raising his visor with one hand to stuff the box-shaped object inside.

Roberta wasted no time. Forcing herself to her feet, she rushed forward and stabbed her sword through the knight’s back. The metal plates ground against her blade as she forced it through with all of her strength. 

The fatal wound did not seem to harm the black knight in the slightest. He rose back up to his full height in a stiff motion and grabbed Roberta by the shoulders, forcing her backwards. As she struggled to break his hold, she tripped on one of the fallen logs. Her back hit a slightly springy part of the floor, and the knight followed her down. 

She shoved at his breastplate, but it was like trying to move solid rock. Then the knight’s visor fell open. There was nothing but blackness beyond. The visor began to flail open and shut, like a gnashing mouth, and she shrieked as the helmet moved closer to her face. 

“Roberta!” she heard Carlton call over the banging of metal. “Roll it to the right!”

The command brought her gibbering thoughts to life-or-death clarity. Planting her feet onto the ground, she forced her weight up and to the right, just as a loud buzzing noise began in that direction. The floor shifted beneath them, and the knight tipped sideways, right into the circular blade, which was now spinning rapidly.

Roberta clawed her way out of its path as the metal teeth bit into the armor. There was a horrific grinding noise as the plating was wrenched open, revealing no being, human or otherwise, inside. The armor writhed in a disturbingly lifelike fashion as it was crumpled beneath the blade to drop through the trench in the moving floor to the level below.

Seeing what appeared to be a bracelet amongst the chunks of metal and other swallowed items, Roberta careened to her feet and ran down the stairs behind her. The floor below was thick with sawdust, and she was careful to avoid the spinning blade overhead as she went to the remains of the armor. As she watched, what was left flashed a glowing red and then dissipated into gray dust. 

Falling to her knees, she dug through the dust. The bracelet turned out to be just a length of chain, and while she did find several dozen nails, a hunting knife, and many other unfamiliar objects, there was no jewelry.

The buzzing grew louder, and more dust rained down on the top of her head. Roberta peered up, noting a log being cut in two by the spinning blade. A cry of dismay escaped her as she suddenly remembered Carlton, and she sprinted back up the stairs.

He was lying sideways on top of the pile of logs, which were now less than three feet away from the saw blade. He had managed to free himself, but at the cost of absolutely shredding his ankle down to the bottom of his foot. She saw with a wave of nausea that the ankle bone was visible through the broken skin. 

She caught Carlton under the arms and dragged him off the moving floor, gritting her teeth at the choked noise he made as his ankle was pulled across the logs. Several of them hit the blade at once, and it began to smoke. A high-pitched whining noise emanated from the spinning metal rod in its center.

“The panel,” Carlton said, voice shaking with repressed pain. “Hit the glowing red button.”

Roberta lowered him to the ground and went to where his shaking hand was pointing. Back near where the pile of logs had fallen there was an upright box. There didn’t appear to be what she would recognize as a button anywhere on it, but a rounded piece sticking out on the face was indeed glowing a dull red. She hit it with her palm, and the spinning blade shuddered to a halt. 

Ears ringing from the sudden silence, she stumbled back over to Carlton, who had managed to sit up and was breathing in gasps as he took in the blood pouring from his foot. She pushed him back down. “Don’t look at it.”

There was a cloth draped over some metal contraption nearby, and she set about tearing a long strip from it as Carlton pulled something off his belt and spoke to it. “This is Detective Lassiter. Calling for emergency assistance…outside of transect…224. Inside the main building at an old sawmill.” He then dropped his hand back to the floor. “Is it dead?”

Roberta nodded as she knelt beside him. “It turned to dust. The stolen jewelry wasn’t with the other things it swallowed.”

He shook badly but made no sound as she wrapped the wound tightly with the strip of cloth, using two thin sticks of wood to help support both sides of the ankle. It didn’t feel broken to her, but there was no way to tell how much damage was done. 

When she’d finished, he grasped her forearm. “Help me up.”

Roberta put her palm on his chest. “You need to lie still. You’ll just damage it further.”

“Emergency responders are on their way,” he said, voice purposeful. “I need to see get my wallet and phone back from the armor. The phone’s a Motorolla.”

“I’ll find them. Stay here,” she ordered, rising to her feet. 

She went back downstairs and first found her poor sword, which had been snapped in two. Some digging produced the small box-like instrument that she had seen him throw, the words “Motorolla” written on one side. And while she wasn’t exactly sure what a wallet was either, she did find a fold of leather with his picture inside. 

When she returned to Carlton, he had somehow pulled himself to his feet and was hobbling across the floor towards where they had first seen the knight. 

“You are the most stubborn man in existence,” she informed him as she slipped beneath one arm to take some of his weight. She stuffed the recovered items into his pocket with her free hand.

“I’ve heard that before,” he rasped. His eyes were fixed on the armor’s footprints left on the dusty floor. 

The tracks led both to and away from a small bathroom just off the main room, the entire back wall of which was covered in a reflective surface so dirty it could barely be called mirror-like. Leaving Carlton leaning against the wall just outside, Roberta entered the room and pressed both hands against the surface. All it did was leave her handprints behind. 

“I’ll bet this led right into Charity von Falconburg’s hallway,” she called back to Carlton.

The detective’s only response was to slide down the wall and land in a heap on the floor. Roberta hurried over to him. “Idiot man,” she told him as she dropped down beside him.

He was shivering, his skin pale, and she was scared that he was going into shock. She pulled him up against her, rubbing at his arms in hopes of keeping him warm and awake. 

She looked across the room at the panel with the glowing “button” and her eyes welled with tears. He had pulled his foot free, stripping his ankle, to start the spinning blade and save her life. And she had left him to almost be cut to pieces while she went and hunted for stupid jewelry. 

Watching as the last few rays of light dimmed from outside the dusty window, she prayed hard that help would come soon.


	3. Chapter 3

Sounds were the first thing to register in Lassiter’s sluggish mind, which was unfortunate because all he could hear was an irritating high-pitched beeping and an argument going on between his partner, Spencer, and Guster. 

“I’m telling you, Jules, Bob’s Donut Shop on 4th is the only way to go,” Spencer was saying.

“I saw the owner put out his cigarette on the counter right next to where they were rolling dough one time.”

“Um, ew. But that doesn’t stop those Oreo-covered old fashions from being delicious.”

“I still say you can’t top the bakery section at Ralphs,” Gus said.

Dead silence. 

“Gus, I can’t believe I’m even friends with you,” Shawn finally said.

“What? You can pick up your other groceries while you’re at it! It’s convenient.”

Lassiter finally managed to get his eyes open. “Would you all please shut up?” His mouth felt full of cotton, but he was able to slur, “And Rainbow Donut beats Bob’s by a mile.”

“Lassie, you’re awake! I knew talk of donuts would bring you back from the grave.” Shawn rose from where he had been lounging on one of the chairs to lean down next to the bed. “How’s the ankle?”

To tell the truth, he couldn’t even tell that he had an ankle. He registered that he was lying in a hospital bed with his leg raised up on a few pillows, but there was a thick fog over everything else, including most of the room. His eyes didn’t seem to want to focus. “What happened?”

O’Hara gave him a sympathetic look. “You scraped your ankle to the bone and blacked out from blood loss. You’re lucky you didn’t break it. They would have had to put a pin in.”

“Which would have meant saying goodbye to breezing through airport security,” Shawn said.

“Titanium doesn’t set off metal detectors, Shawn,” Gus said.

Lassiter suddenly noticed that no one was else in the room with them. “Where’s Roberta?” He tried to sit up further, and his ankle flared back into his awareness with stunning pain.

O’Hara held out her hands in a calming gesture. “She probably just ran home to change. She was here earlier. Rode over in the ambulance with you.”

“Yeah, she practically attacked the paramedics when they tried to get her off of you,” Shawn said.

Lassiter heard his heart monitoring beeping faster. She wouldn’t have any idea of how to get back to his house, let alone how to get inside once she did. She could be wandering around the streets where the worst of the scum in Santa Barbara would be waiting. He started to pull himself out of bed. “I have to find her.”

“Hey, hey, hold on—” O’Hara tried, getting to her feet, but Shawn was already on him, trying to push him back down. Lassiter struggled against him. 

“Detective, get back in that bed this instant!”

He would obey that voice even in his sleep. Lassiter fell back against the pillows, and O’Hara and Spencer returned their chairs so quickly that Spencer’s nearly tipped over. 

Chief Vick stepped into the room. “Does someone want to tell me what is going on here?”

“It’s Roberta—” Lassiter realized that he couldn’t remember her last name and barreled on. “The consultant on the Martin case. I need to make sure she'd okay.”

“I saw Ms. Steingass in the cafeteria on my way up. She looked fine.” The Chief turned to the group surrounding the bed. “Could you please give Lassiter and me a moment?”

O’Hara nodded, gesturing for Shawn and Gus to follow her out. 

As the door closed behind them, the Chief took the chair closest to him. “What happened, Carlton?”

Frowning at the use of his first name, which she only ever did when he was in the hospital, Lassiter was at least grateful that she hadn’t asked him how he was feeling. They both knew that he wouldn’t answer truthfully anyway. “My ankle got crushed.”

She gave him a flat look. “I meant more along the lines of how that happened. Why did you separate from the group?”

“While Spencer and the entire tracking team went off after an aura, Roberta Steingass noticed some footprints near the place where Martin likely fell. They led to a sawmill off the edge of the forest.”

“How do you know Ms. Steingass?” The Chief interrupted.

“She’s a friend of mine that I brought along to join the team. She's an experienced tracker.”

“So she led you onto the private property?”

“It was my decision to trespass. We saw someone in one of the buildings, and I gave the okay to investigate.”

“How did you manage to break an antique buzzsaw worth over two grand?”

Lassiter took a breath, attempting to focus his hazy thoughts long enough to figure out just how many lies he would have to tell. It would be so much easier if he hadn’t discharged his weapon, but he hadn’t had a choice at the time. “When we entered the sawmill, someone charged at us, upsetting a pile of logs and trapping my ankle. I opened fire, and he fled the scene.”

Vick looked away thoughtfully for a moment. “Could you ID him?” she finally asked.

“Sorry, Chief, but it was pretty dark in there and he was wearing all black.” 

“Could Ms. Steingass?”

Lassiter felt his shoulders tense up. “I can get her statement.”

He relaxed again as the Chief nodded. “Good. What about the buzzsaw?”

“Roberta and I were unable to free my ankle,” Lassiter continued. “So I had her turn on the buzzsaw to loosen up some of the logs. When the conveyor belt began moving, I lost my balance and tore up the ankle. The logs hit the buzzsaw and caused the damage. It was my call and my fault.”

He could practically see the disapproval radiating off of her. “You didn’t think to call for help.”

“Not until later, Chief, no.”

“What you did was completely unacceptable. Going off on your own, entering private land without a warrant, and then damaging private property. As soon as you’re released, I want you to write a letter of formal apology to the landowner. Hopefully that will keep us from getting sued.”

Lassiter perked up at the thought of getting to leave. “Do you think they’ll let me out today?”

“I’m sure your doctor will go over all this with you, but they had to pump you full of antibiotics. You’re running a fever, so they’re keeping you overnight. And they want to keep an eye on your new skin grafts.”

The Chief placed her purse on her lap. “You can be back on reduced desk duties the day after tomorrow as long as you stay off your foot. In the meantime, you’ve got a training video on the proper use of search warrants to complete. When you get back, I want you to help O’Hara pursue this connection between the footprints where Martin fell and the man who attacked you at the mill.”

The retraining rankled, especially since Spencer likely wouldn’t get even a slap on the wrist for hijacking the entire tracking team, but Lassiter would do what he had to in order to get back to work. “Yes, Chief.”

Whatever timer the machine controlling his IV had went off then, flooding his system with painkillers, and Lassiter felt his eyes start to close.

The Chief snapped her fingers, dragging him back to semi-consciousness. “Don’t go falling asleep on me just yet, detective. We need to go over your active cases so I can reassign them while you’re out.”

Lassiter nodded foggily, rotating his ankle a few inches. The sudden pain cleared his thoughts enough for him to think somewhat coherently, and he began to update the Chief on everything he could remember.

*****

Roberta slumped in her chair inside the hospital cafeteria, feeling every one of her new bruises. She had been there through the night while Carlton was having his ankle fixed and could hardly imagine less comfortable chairs in any world. She thought with longing for a few hours of sleep on the settee in Carlton’s room, but she didn’t want to go back in there until she was sure that everyone had gone. She still felt overly jumpy, and the loud voices of Juliet, Shawn, and the new man who had joined them had only put her more on edge.

Her stomach rumbled, but she didn’t bother even looking over at the counter of food across the room. Somehow she doubted that they would accept the two copper sovereigns in her pocket. 

A familiar voice spoke from across the room. “I could have wheeled myself here.”

Roberta lifted her head. Carlton was being pushed into the cafeteria in a wheeled chair by a nurse. Another new word that Roberta had learned since coming to this horrible place.

The nurse gave him an unimpressed look. “And have you roll right out the front door? Sorry, Detective Lassiter, but in your file you’re marked as a flight risk.”

Carlton looked mutinous, but his eyes lit as they locked with Roberta’s. She saw his mouth form her name, and then he was pushing on the wheels of his chair, trying to roll it towards her. 

Roberta rose to her feet, fighting off the shyness that seemed to come over her, and went over to them. “I can stay with him.”

The nurse pushed the chair at an angle so that she could reach the handle. “Take him. But he’s due for his next round of medication at eight. You’ll have to have him back in his room by then.”

“I will,” Roberta promised, giving the nurse a wave as she left. She then maneuvered the chair so it was next to the nearest table and sank into a seat with a grimace. 

Carlton was looking her over from head to foot. “Are you hurt?”

“Just bruised. I’ve been bashed about by an enchanted suit of armor twice now, you know.” He looked just as exhausted as she felt. The hospital gown didn’t help either. She could see a smear of dirt on his calf.

Her gaze went to the white bandage around his ankle, and she felt her throat go tight. She struggled for a moment with how to apologize for rushing in and nearly getting him killed, but Carlton spoke first. “Have you had breakfast?”

Roberta looked back up. “No. I’m starving.”

“Here.” He pulled the bracelet off his wrist and handed it to her. “Go get whatever you want. Bring me a muffin.”

Roberta went over to the counter and gave the bracelet to the cook in payment. She was a bit confused when he gave it back after pointing some sort of instrument at it. But he also handed over her requested raspberry muffin and a sweet bread toped with bright red cherries, so she assumed she had used it correctly. 

As returned to her seat and slid the muffin and bracelet across the table to Carlton, he asked, “What exactly was that knight thing?”

“I have no idea. I thought it was a normal man in a suit of armor, albeit one capable of traveling through mirrors. I would have brought more than a sword to defend myself had I known what I was facing.” She paused, scrutinizing him. “You knew there was nothing inside, didn’t you?”

Carlton shifted in his chair. “Maybe. I thought I was losing my mind.”

“I came through a magic mirror to find the knight, Carlton. I would have believed you.” 

“There’s something else. When I first saw the armor, I lifted up that hinged part on the front of the helmet—”

“The visor.”

“The visor. And I found an earring hooked inside.”

“Was it ostentatious and made of gold?”

“I don’t know too much about styles of jewelry, but it was pretty long and made of gold.”

“Sounds like a signature Princess Charity piece,” Roberta said, mind racing. She was distracted from theorizing about where the jewelry could have gotten to when another thought occurred. “Carlton, how did your wallet come to be inside it?”

If possible, he looked even more uncomfortable. “It doesn’t matter. So I think we can assume that the armor had the stolen jewelry inside it at one time. Which means—”

Roberta pushed at the front wheel of his chair with her foot until he was focused on her again. “Carlton.”

“Okay, fine,” he snapped. “That first day out in the woods, I came across what I thought was an empty suit of armor. It grabbed me, pushed me up against a tree, and stole my wallet. I’m the head detective of the SBPD, and I got robbed by a tin can. It’s humiliating.”

Frowning at the self-loathing in his voice, Roberta leaned forward to catch his eye again. “You are probably the first man in your world to face such a thing. And kill it.”

“At the cost of my ankle,” he said, lifting the injured limb slightly and wincing.

“Better than your life,” she responded archly, taking a large bit of her sweet bread and humming in approval at the taste.

She caught a hint of a smile as he started removing the parchment containing his muffin. “Your first step once you get back should be to find out who or what would be capable of making whatever that suit of armor was.”

Something in her chest fell when she realized that she would be looking for a single wizard or enchanter out of possibly hundreds by herself. “What will you be doing?”

“We still don’t know for sure if the armor had anything to do with Trent Martin’s death. Forensics will tell me if any of Martin’s possessions are found on that lower level. I’ll get you a list of items that are suspected to be on his person when he went hiking in case you find them with your stolen jewelry.”

“Could the armor have killed Martin and eaten his possessions?” Roberta shuddered, thinking of the visor snapping open and closed.

“It’s possible. Although his injuries are more consistent with a fall from the cliff.”

“What would be the purpose of creating such a thing? I understand wanting to rob the von Falconburg sisters’ jewelry box, but the armor was eating everything in sight. It didn’t do that back at their castle.”

Carlton began breaking his muffin into smaller pieces. “Do these Falcon-whatever women have any enemies that you know of?”

“Nearly everyone in the twelve realms. They hold these dinners called Sunday roast where they take turns insulting the guests. And they’re known for their lavish taste in jewelry. That could be reason alone.”

“You should still ask around. See who would want to get even with them by robbing them.” He tapped the arm of his chair with his fingertips. “I assume you’ve questioned the people who were there the night of the robbery?”

Roberta looked down, thinking with chagrin of her now useless jousting tournament. “No, I was too busy being interrogated myself.”

“You need to get on that. I don’t know the first thing about enchanted armor, but the perpetrator often returns to the scene of the crime.”

Roberta wondered just how she would go about questioning lords and ladies many social stations above herself. It wasn’t as if she could show up at their doorstep and demand an audience. Plus, there were the dozens of servants employed by the two princesses, which she would have to find time to speak with somewhere in between hunting down a rogue wizard. Charity and Prudence hadn’t really given her a deadline and it wasn’t like Gareth was breathing down her neck, but their patience could run out at any moment. 

She came out of her thoughts and noticed that Carlton had one fist clenched atop his good leg and a sheen of sweat had broken out on his forehead. He also hadn’t eaten a bite of his breakfast. She was beginning to realize that he wasn’t one to take care of himself.

She made a show of rubbing at her bruised arm and wincing. “Would you mind if we talked later, my lord? I’m suddenly very tired.”

His brow furrowed. “Have you had a doctor look you over? A concussion or fracture isn’t always obvious.”

“I’ll send for a healer if the pain persists.” She hid her amusement by ducking around behind his chair and pushing him towards the door. 

As they made their way down the hall, he reached into the pocket on the side of the chair and pulled out the phone that she had recovered for him. He touched one of the buttons and the face began to glow. “I’ll call you a cab to bring you back to my place. I can give you some cash for the fare.” 

Roberta barely registered his comments, preoccupied with worry over what state she would find her home in when she returned. And that was assuming that she could even return through the mirror first.

He had just given her a spare key and was walking her through the complexities of his security system when the nurse walked in and looked at them with mock surprise. “Detective Lassiter! Couldn’t find a getaway car, I assume?”

“That was one time. And it doesn’t count as an escape if you’re going to stop a hostage situation,” Carlton growled, but he got back into the bed when she pointed at it.

Roberta was looking over at the settee herself, wondering if she had time to grab a few minutes of sleep, when she was startled out of her thoughts by the nurse speaking to her. “His temperature’s gone down, but you’ll want to keep an eye on it over the next few days. He had a lot of foreign contaminants enter into his bloodstream. There’s no telling what could rear its ugly head.”

Roberta nodded vaguely as the older woman went on about keeping the ankle elevated and dosages of pain medication. She then attached a clear rope hanging next to the bed to the needle in the back of Carlton’s hand.

The nurse had just filled a bowl with water when the box attached to her hip began ringing. She pulled it off and sighed as she looked at the face. “I’ve got to go up to MedSerge.” She handed the bowl and another gown to Roberta. “Could you help him with his sponge bath and into a clean gown?”

Roberta sent a startled look at Carlton, who was looking back at her in horror and clutching his blankets nearly up to his chin. Roberta turned back to the nurse to protest, but she was already heading out of the room, calling “Thanks!” over her shoulder.

Roberta carefully set the bowl down on the table next to the bed. She had been raised well and wouldn’t push anything unwanted on a man, especially one that had saved her life. “Do you want my help?”

Carlton dropped the blankets long enough to snatch the gown from the table. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that was quickly covered up by his usual surliness. “Maybe just with my back. Let me get this damned thing on first.”

Roberta ducked into the bathroom to give him some privacy, listening to the rustle of fabric as he changed. “Okay,” he called to her quietly, and she returned to the bed. He had pushed the blankets aside but looked ready to snatch them up again at any moment.

Feeling that shyness rise up again, she went to the bowl and dipped what the nurse had called a sponge into the soapy water. Carlton leaned forward, resting his crossed arms on a bent knee, and she parted the openings of the gown. 

Her hand stilled when she took in the dark bruising on either side of his spine. “Did someone do this to you?”

“Our magical suit of armor when it mugged me,” he said darkly.

The memory of it getting crushed by a spinning blade suddenly took on a very satisfying light. 

As she started running the sponge down his back, she could see why he had needed help. Dirt was ground into the skin near his lower spine, and there were several small cuts that looked to have bark inside them. She tried very hard to keep her touches perfunctory, but it was difficult not to notice the movement of sleek muscles under her hand as he breathed. 

She felt when whatever medicine the nurse had given him took effect because he started to slump forward. She caught him around the chest and guided him to lay back down. He was watching her with a gaze that seemed both unfocused and thoughtful, his eyes half-lidded.

She moved on to his arms next, noting the calluses on his palm and smaller fingers. She then made quick work of the smear of dirt on his calf, careful not to go above the knee.

By the time she had covered him with the blankets and dumped the contents of the bowl, the detective was deeply asleep, slumped against the pillows and breathing softly. Roberta watched him for a moment, wondering what it would be like to have a man like this at her side.

She abruptly turned on her heel, going to the door and messing with the buttons on the wall until the room darkened. She pressed a hand to her stomach as she went downstairs to wait for the cab.

“Oh no,” she said in quiet defeat.


	4. Chapter 4

Roberta awoke at sunrise as usual, groggy despite going to bed the previous afternoon and sleeping clear through the night. She could have slept longer, but she needed to make sure Gareth hadn’t had half the staff executed in her absence the day before. Upon stepping through the mirror at noon the previous day—after another stressful car ride spent worrying about what she would do if the mirror would not let her return home—she had only checked the dungeons to be sure that they were empty before collapsing into bed.

Her stomach growled and she crawled out from under the blankets. She desperately needed something to eat. She stumbled through getting dressed and plated her hair as she made her way down to the kitchens. 

The sound of hammering made her pause halfway across the main hall. Frowning, she hurried towards the main doors. If Gareth had gone ahead with building his gallows, then he would be the first to try them out.

The inner courtyard was empty of any nooses, but she found the source of the commotion behind the outer walls. Gareth stood supervising her only two guards as they hammered together several rows of benches on layered levels. And as requested, a tilt fence had been erected in front.

Ducking under it, Roberta came up beside Gareth. “What’s this?”

“Oh, you’re back,” Gareth said, examining a drawing on a piece of parchment. “What’s it look like? It’s a jousting stand.”

Roberta raised an eyebrow. “I just asked you to build a tilt fence.”

Gareth crossed his arms. “You can’t just hold a jousting tournament in an empty field. It’s pathetic.”

“All right then,” Roberta muttered, slightly offended. A vague plan clicked into place then, and she gave the stands an assessing look. “Gareth, do you think you could add a royal box?”

“Not with these two weaklings,” Gareth said, giving the two guards an irritated look. “It’s like they’ve never done carpentry before.”

Reminding herself that money would do her no good if she was dead, Roberta took a deep breath. “You can bring in a few men. No more than three,” she added when he looked a bit too eager. “And let these two go back to their actual job.”

“Standing around on the top of the castle wall jabbering all day,” Gareth sneered. “I know just the men I want. I’ll give you a note to take.”

Roberta had been half turning away to return to the castle, but his comment stopped her short. “Sorry? Why am I ferrying around your notes?”

“Princess Charity sent a message yesterday evening. She wants an update on the investigation.”

Roberta went cold all over. “What did you tell her?”

“Nothing.”

“Thank you,” Roberta said with sincerity. “You’re not coming along then?”

He was already hefting up up an axe. “Nah, you don’t need me to go with you. I’ve got to get started on this section here.”

Roberta waved back at him as she started for the castle. She had been planning on canceling the jousting tournament since enchanted suits of armor were probably banned by the official rulebook, but if she made it into enough of a spectacle, then maybe she could lure the real thief. 

Assuming Charity didn’t have her beheaded that afternoon, that was. 

****

“Roberta, dear,” Charity said as Roberta approached her throne. “How kind of you to join us. And dressed in your usual finery, I see.”

“It’s as if you’ve brought the whole forest with you to visit,” Prudence tittered. 

Suspecting that she might have caught a leaf or something in her hair on the ride over but not wanting to give them of satisfaction of checking, Roberta sighed as she waited for the sisters to stop laughing. Best to go with the good news first. “I’ve managed to destroy the thief.”

Charity’s face lit with delight. “Oooh, who was it?”

“And what do you mean by destroy? You were supposed to bring them here so we can have a public execution,” Prudence said.

Roberta took a deep breath. “It was an enchanted suit of armor.” When both princesses just stared at her, she elaborated, “A suit of armor made to walk about with no one in it. It would throw the stolen items inside its helmet and store them in the sabatons and greaves. Then it would use the nearest mirror like a doorway and escape.”

Charity’s head slowly cocked to the side. “So where’s our jewelry then?”

Time for the bad news. “I haven’t found it yet.”

“And we’re just supposed to believe that you didn’t take it for yourself? Where’s Gareth? He was supposed to be watching for things like this.”

Roberta clasped her hands in front of her, bowing her head. “Your highnesses, when I was knighted, I swore an oath to faithfully serve you. I would never break that oath by stealing.”

Prudence gave her a condescending smile. “Why haven’t you found what was stolen then? Did this magic armor just decide to take our property for itself?”

Okay, so maybe there was more bad news. “I don’t know who enchanted the armor or why. And I’m working on finding the jewelry. I just need a little more time. If your highnesses could please tell me which pieces were stolen, it would help me identify them.”

“We don’t keep track of each gemstone we own!” Charity snorted. “What are we, peasants?”

Roberta shifted her weight, trying a different tactic. “Could I speak to Gwen about it? Maybe she would know.”

“Who?” Charity asked.

“Bad teeth. Boring hair,” Prudence murmured in her ear. 

“Oh, that one. Yes, go ahead. She’s in the kitchens.”

Roberta bowed, only too grateful to be dismissed. 

“Oh, and Roberta, dear?” Charity called just as she reached the door. “You have one month to find our stolen jewelry. Then we execute you for theft.”

Roberta nodded curtly and left the room.

She breathed hard as she made her way down the spiral stairway towards the kitchens. Surprisingly, the fear she had felt over the threat of being cut open had fled, leaving only anger in its wake. After nearly killing herself destroying the blasted armor, she would die for it anyway. What was the point?

She could run. She’d lived on the road for years. It wouldn’t be so bad to go back.

But what would happen to her family lands, her home, the servants she’d known since she was a girl? At best, they would be taken over by a new mistress; at worst, her punishment would be transferred to the staff and her castle razed to the ground.

She paused halfway down the stairway, hand resting against the wall. She disliked the von Falconburg sisters fiercely. She didn’t really care that they had been robbed. But the armor had possibly killed someone in that other world. It had tried to kill her, had hurt Carlton. She was a knight, and that meant that she couldn’t just stand by and watch as something evil was let loose into either world.

She strode into the kitchens a moment later, dodging a maidservant carrying a bowl of fruit. Gwen was in the back near the water pump, glumly cutting up a pile of potatoes.

“Hello, Gwen. How are you?”

Gwen looked up, knife pausing midway through a potato skin. “My lady! What are you doing down here? Can I get you something?”

Roberta turned sideways against a counter to let a chef go by. “Is there somewhere quieter we can talk?”

Gwen set down the knife. “Okay, but it’ll have to be fast. I only get one five minute break per year, and I already used up two minutes that time my hair caught fire.”

They moved to the hallway outside, where Gwen busied herself wiping her hands clean on her apron. “Is there something I can help you with, my lady?”

“Please, call me Roberta. And I think there might be. Do you sometimes work as a maidservant to Princess Charity when you’re not working the kitchen?” Roberta’s eyes widened as Gwen burst into tears. “What’s wrong?”

Gwen put her apron up over her mouth. “I didn’t used to work in the kitchens. I had a good position helping the princesses dress and doing their hair. But after what happened, they put me down here washing dishes and cutting up food.”

“But you had nothing to do with the robbery!”

“That don’t matter! It’s only a matter of time before they dismiss me without references. Or worse.”

Roberta started back towards the stairs. “I can talk to them.” Her word wasn’t worth much with the von Falconburg sisters at the moment, but surely they could at least move the poor girl up to a maid position. 

Gwen ran in front of her. “No! That will just make it worse!” She looked up at Roberta through teary eyes. “But maybe…could I come work for you, Roberta? I’ll be the best maidservant you ever had, I promise.”

Roberta tilted her head forward, mind racing. She didn’t have much use for a maidservant. But she had just hired on three extra sub-henchmen for the sole purpose of building a really fancy box, so this seemed to be the day for foolish extravagances. 

She used one hand to rub her temple. “Do you remember what some of the stolen jewelry looked like? Could you describe to me some of the pieces?”

“Oh, yes, my lady. I used to help both princesses accessorize four times a day.” Gwen squinted at Roberta’s hair. “If I may be so bold, my lady.” And reaching up, she extracted a twig with a flower on it from one of her braids. 

Maybe having a maidservant wouldn’t be so bad.

*****

At around seven in the morning, the sun rose above his neighbor’s roof and was then able to shine down through the bedroom window and right into Lassiter’s eyes. He reached for his blanket, pulling it up and over his face.

He had come home from the hospital the previous evening and hadn’t done much else but sleep. He’d have to start weaning himself off the painkillers if he expected to be functional for work the next day. The drugs had knocked him out cold for hours.

He felt a bit foggy headed at the moment, but he also had some training materials to slog through. So, teeth gritted, he levered himself out of bed and headed for the living room.

Lassiter hobbled past the mirror in the hall as fast as his crutches would allow. He couldn’t help glancing at it and was mostly relieved when he did not see Roberta or her rooms. 

He knew that he would have to talk with her eventually. But he just wanted that to be when he was back on his feet and feeling sharp and in control. It killed him that when he had last seen her, he had been drugged out of his mind and in a hospital gown. He also had a vague memory, which had damned well better have been only a dream, of asking her to give him a sponge bath. It was just another item on the long list of reasons why he tended to send women running away screaming. 

He turned on his coffee maker just as “shave and a haircut” was knocked on his front door.

Lassiter peered out the peephole and groaned when he saw Shawn Spencer peering right back at him from the other side. He swung open the door. “Spencer. What—” He then had to stumble back and catch himself up against the door as Spencer breezed past him.

“Glad to see you’re still alive, Lassie. Jules thought you must have gotten carried off by wild boars since you haven’t been bugging her about the case.” He began wandering through the living room, knocking on the wooden armrest of the couch. “Nice place!”

Lassiter ground his teeth. He had considered it a point of pride that no one from work had ever been inside his home since the Drimmer case, but that winning streak had finally come to an end. “Okay, you’ve seen me. You can tell O’Hara that I’m not dead. Now get out.”

“But I come bearing gifts.” He pulled out a pair of sunglasses and slid them on. “How do I look?”

Lassiter froze upon recognizing the aviators, the lenses covered in sawdust. He had forgotten them back at the sawmill. How could he have been so stupid? “While imitation is the best form of flattery, Spencer, only men who’ve matured past the seventh grade can pull those off.”

Spencer’s mouth twisted, and he shrugged. “I was just returning them. They’re yours.” He pulled them off and held them out for Lassiter to take.

Lassiter shook his head, heart beginning to beat faster. “No, they’re not. Mine are in my car.”

Spencer was watching him with that penetrating gaze he sometimes had, and Lassiter fought against the urge to pull his robe tighter around himself. “Lassie, I rode around with Jules in your car all day yesterday. You have to know that I snooped through every compartment. And I totally would have worn your sunglasses if I’d found them.”

Lassiter threw up the hand that wasn't keeping him balanced on the crutches. “Fine. Since mine seem to be missing.” He held out one hand to take them.

Spencer rubbed the dust off one of the lenses for a moment before handing them over. “You probably just dropped them at the sawmill. Jules let me take them out of evidence.”

Lassiter, mentally kicking himself for not thinking of that excuse first, scowled at Spencer. “Seriously, Spencer, you have to leave. I’ve got training videos to watch before I go back to work tomorrow.”

“Awesome! We can have a movie night. Or I guess, technically a movie morning.” He then pulled two DVDs out of his bag. “Point Break or Bad Boys II?”

“That’s a quote from Hot Fuzz. And neither.” 

He realized his mistake when Shawn flipped open another pocket to pull out the Hot Fuzz DVD with a flourish. “I knew you were a fan.” He vaulted over the back of Lassiter’s couch and headed for the television. “I’ll start the popcorn in a minute. Do you even own a microwave?”

Feeling the imminent return of his tension-induced stomach ache, Lassiter downed two pills out of the bottle in his pocket and hobbled over to the couch. Why bother fighting it? Shawn had somehow totally engulfed every aspect of his job and hobbies. It figured that he had to invade his home next. But that didn’t mean that Lassiter had to be conscious for it.

And as the previews began blaring out of the speaker system and the smell of burning popcorn filled the air, Lassiter lay his head down on the back of the couch and closed his eyes. 

****

The end credits to Bad Boys II began to roll, and Shawn fumbled with the remote, accidentally cranking up the volume and blasting the living room with noise. He sent a guilty look over at Lassiter as he finally found the power button, but the detective hadn’t stirred. He’d been out like a light since the opening credits two movies ago, and Shawn was kind of amazed that Lassiter would let his guard down enough to sleep with him over.

Shawn cast another look around the living room and kitchen, memorizing the small details of the place. Lassie guarded his privacy so fiercely that Shawn considered every push past his defenses a major victory. 

Finally getting to see inside his house when not being held at gunpoint was a huge step forward. He and Jules had a running bet to see who could be the first one to be invited over, and Shawn was looking forward to rubbing his win in her face, even if he technically had more forced his way past a hobbled Lassiter than been asked inside. 

The clock on the VCR—he still couldn’t believe that Lassie still owned a VCR!—changed from 11:28 to 11:29 then, and Shawn realized that he’d stayed for nearly four hours. He got up and set about putting the room to rights, including dumping what was left of the semi-burnt popcorn into the trash. 

He noticed that Lassiter was slumped low on the couch, his ankle resting on the ground. “Come on, Lassie. Even I know that you’re supposed to elevate an injured ankle. Speaking of which, remind me to find out if you’re doing physical therapy.” Watching him do stretches would be nothing short of hilarious.

Hooking his hands just above the bandage, Shawn turned the detective sideways and pulled him down and away from the armrest so that he was lying fully on the couch. Lassiter stirred slightly at the movement, mumbling something too slurred to be understandable, but he did not wake. As he placed pillows beneath Lassiter’s heavily bandaged ankle, Shawn saw that the detective’s shirt had ridden up, revealing the edge of a dark blue and purple bruise on his sternum.

Frowning, Shawn lifted the edge of the t-shirt up. “What the hell happened to you?” There was a bruise about the size of a handprint right in the center of Lassiter’s chest. It could have come from his tussle with the falling logs—Shawn had gotten the entire story out of the Chief—but the coloration meant that the injury had occurred more than just the day before. 

Shawn was quickly becoming more and more convinced that something had happened to him that first day in the woods. Something more than just tripping into some bushes, that is. He had been shaken, and Lassiter was not one to be shaken easily. Had the mysterious figure from the saw mill also attacked him out there? 

Why had he freaked out when Shawn had tried to return his sunglasses? And what was with this so-called friend tagging along on their search party? Because whatever Lassiter had claimed, he didn't have any close friends, especially female ones. 

It was becoming increasingly obvious that his favorite head detective was hiding something. And, Shawn promised himself as he pulled Lassiter’s shirt back down, he was going to find out just what it was.

****

Roberta trotted down the steps to the kitchen, listening to the clanking of armored feet from the main hall above. Knights from across the land had begun arriving over the past few days, and the fields outside the castle were starting to resemble a small war encampment. Colorful tents with horses decked out in caparisons tied out front stretched almost to the tree line.

Roberta was trying to take the chaos permeating her once sleepy castle in stride, but she only realized the stress it was putting on her staff when she entered the kitchen and saw Barnabas the cook looking around in dismay as a horde of local villagers stacked piles of foodstuffs on the counters. 

“What the devil is this?” he exclaimed once he noticed her.

Roberta went over to him, dodging a man carrying a brace of hares, and put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you. I stopped by town earlier and opened some accounts with the farmers.”

“But why?” His bushy eyebrows drew down. “Is my bread and cheese buffet not good enough for you now? I left out cheese and bread every morning while your father was alive, and he never said a word of complaint.”

“It’s lovely, Barnabas, but we have some new staff starting and a whole tournament to feed.”

“Since when do tournaments have food?” 

Roberta took a deep breath for patience. “Ours will. I’m inviting all the lords and ladies in the kingdom, and they’re going to love your cooking. Your roast venison will be the talk of the land.”

When he still didn’t look convinced, she pulled out her next card. “And of course, you can hire on some temporary staff. A few undercooks and kitchen maids?”

The thought of giving him someone to order around obviously appealed because the panicked look in his eyes turned to thoughtfulness as he looked around the bustling kitchen. “We could put a spit over the fire. And it would be nice to have help with the enormous turkey legs. Even if we switch to chicken after everyone’s too sloshed to notice, that’s still hours of basting.”

She nodded in sympathy. “I trust your judgement. Put any extra orders on my account in town.”

“I better start planning breakfast for tomorrow then,” Barnabas said, turning in an instant to start giving orders. “No, no, no, put those potatoes in the pantry. The last thing we need is for someone to trip and break a leg.”

Roberta grabbed an apple off the counter and took a bite as she made her way back upstairs. It seemed it would be the last simple meal that she would have in peace for some time. 

Upon entering her sitting room, she noticed that Gwen had obviously come and gone. The weapons rack had been reorganized, the floor swept, and the furniture dusted. And her riding boots had been polished and set out for the next day.

Further reassessing her views of the usefulness of maidservants, Roberta unbuckled her sword and gave the leather a good cleaning. She was just putting it in its place on the rack when the mirror gave a slight rattle. She turned to look at it with her hand resting on the top beam of the rack.

She had spent the last few days wondering just what she was going to do about the draw she felt towards the man on the other side. This wasn’t the best time for her to develop feelings for someone, especially a detective in an enchanted mirror who was already having trouble handling the few elements from her world that he had seen. But as the mirror rattled again, Roberta smiled almost giddily. Surely there was no harm in just talking with Carlton.

She approached the mirror and stepped forward into its surface. Since it wasn’t showing Carlton or his rooms, she assumed that he wasn’t in front of the mirror. But as she passed through into the other world, she just had time to see Carlton standing directly below her, his fist raised as if knocking on a door, before she crashed into his arms. 

The detective’s breath huffed out of him as her momentum pushed him back against the wall, and his eyes went wide at suddenly finding her face inches from his. Roberta stared back, cheeks heating. 

Carlton looked much better now than when she had last seen him. He was dressed in one of his usual buttoned shirts with the slip of cloth tied around his neck—a great improvement on the ghastly hospital gown—but most reassuring were his eyes. She hadn’t realized how much she admired the dark shade of blue or the intelligence in them until they were no longer dull with drugs or pain.

Attempting to suck in a breath—he was holding her up off the ground—Roberta managed, “Was there something you wanted to speak to me about, my lord?”

Carlton seemed to notice that he had his arms around her then, because he flushed, released her, and stepped back at almost the same time. The crutch that had been pressed between his arm and her side fell down to the floor with a clatter. 

“I wanted to see how your investigation was going,” he said, sounding somewhat flustered.

“It would be nice to talk things over with someone,” Roberta agreed, bending over to retrieve the fallen crutch. As he took it from her and gingerly placed his ankle back on the ground, she felt a wave of guilt for falling on him. “Is there somewhere we can sit?”

The question roused him out of his obsessive straightening of his mussed shirt. “Sure. This way.” 

He led the way into the living room, pointing at the settee as he passed it. “Make yourself at home. Do you want a beer?”

“Sure,” Roberta echoed. She pulled herself into a crosslegged position at one end, listening to the hiss of the bottles as Carlton opened them.

She accepted her drink with a word of thanks and waited as he slid down to sit on the opposite end of the settee. Then she pulled out an invitation and handed it to him. 

He examined it for a moment. “A jousting tournament?” He gave her a look over the top of the card. “I don’t think the black knight is capable of competing, Roberta.”

Seeing the humor in his eyes, Roberta grinned back at him. “Somehow I also came to that conclusion, my lord. But if the thief behind it is a normal human knight, then this will give me an opportunity to find him.”

“That’s not a bad idea, actually. Bring all the suspects together in one place and interrogate them there. Was it just knights at this roast thing at the time of the robbery?”

“Well, no. I’m a bit stuck on that point. Some of the lords and ladies will come to the tournament, but not everyone is interested in jousting. And I can’t just invite myself into their homes and start asking if they’ve stolen anything from a princess lately.” 

He crossed his arms over his chest, looking down in thought. “Could you throw a roast of your own?”

Roberta blanched at the idea of having to come up with entertaining insults all evening, but she tilted her head as another idea took hold. “What about a celebratory ball after the tournament? If I make it lavish enough, then most of the gentry will attend just out of curiosity.” 

She mentally began tallying through which pieces of her parent’s old furniture she could sell off to cover the costs. The money gained through concessions and entry fees from the tournament wouldn’t even begin to cover the food, music, and decorations that she’d need. Her staff were just going to love this. Assuming she made it out of this alive, they’d all be eating nothing but stale bread for the next two years.

“You should hand the invitations out personally. It might make them feel obligated to attend.” Carlton handed back his own card, and Roberta had to sigh at the irony. 

She took another swallow of beer and asked, “How can I tell if someone is lying to me when I’m asking them about the theft?”

He brightened at having her call upon his expertise. “First of all, that glancing upwards and to the left thing is a crock of crap. Everyone lies differently. And lie detector tests don’t even hold up in court anymore. You’re going to need to look for holes and inconsistencies in their stories and go from there.” He rubbed his hands together eagerly. “Let’s go over what you know about each suspect. I’ll get my whiteboard.” 

Roberta raised her eyebrows as he dashed from the room as fast as his injured foot would allow. He had almost forgotten to grab his crutch. She smiled as she finished off her drink, fascinated by his enthusiasm. 

He returned a moment later with the whiteboard under one arm. He set it up across from her on the other side of the little table in front of the settee. “Okay, let’s start with a list of all the guests that were there that night.”

Roberta took a deep breath and began plumbing her memory for the names of each person at the table. Carlton scribbled notes in clear, uniform letters as she spoke. When it became apparent that each person’s movements that evening amounted to “arrived at castle, ate dinner, and left,” they moved on to backgrounds and possible motives.

Roberta, now on her third beer, lay sideways on the couch with her head propped in one hand and took great pleasure in telling Carlton the best and funniest stories she could remember about the wealthy of the kingdom. She had grown up around these people, even if she didn’t know them personally very well, and with princesses like Charity and Prudence at the helm, gossip traveled fast and far. 

Carlton eventually moved to sit in a chair next to her with the board set up beside him, taking sips out of his drink with one hand and writing with the other. Roberta was extremely pleased whenever one of her stories made him laugh. It lit his whole face, brightening his eyes, and she began to suspect that she was in some trouble. 

She wrapped up an exaggerated retelling of the time Charity and Prudence had made Lady Grimsby cry for having a life-sized portrait of herself holding a weasel commissioned and then moved on to the last person sitting at the table. “And to my left was Lord Gorring, the unintentional subject of the evening’s roast. Which pretty much meant two hours of jokes about his size, poor man.” Roberta sat up, her hair flying forward around her face. “Carlton!” 

“What?” he responded, distracted by trying to connect a length of string between the paragraph on Lady Grimsby and the names of the two princesses at the top of the board.

“It was Lord Gorring!”

He glanced up at her. “How do you know?”

Roberta spun around to face him. “The princesses were mocking him all night for his appetite. How fitting would it be if he had an eternally hungry suit of armor come and eat what they most valued? It’s the perfect ironic revenge.”

Carlton snorted in disbelief. “Ironic’s a stretch. It’s worth looking into, but I wouldn’t put all my eggs in the Gorring basket. Hunches and gut feelings make for bad detective work.” 

Giving him a mock frown, Roberta flopped back down on the cushions. “All right then, Head Detective Lassiter, how is your investigation going over here?”

“Lousy,” Carlton replied, pushing aside the whiteboard and limping back over to the settee. She moved her feet out of the way as he slumped bonelessly back down onto the other end. “Forensics is blindly groping their way through the saw mill in search of evidence, and it’s killing me to be stuck at a desk instead of out there casually suggesting that they search the floor directly under the saw blade. 

“Speaking of which, the owner of the mill did not accept my very civil apology and threatened to sue us for trespassing and breaking his saw blade until I pointed out the number of safety protocols broken by having a saw blade in the middle of the open floor. So that problem’s off my plate at least.

“Then to top it all off, after I spend half the day writing up responses for a Q&A with the press about whether it’s safe to hike in the park, making sure my answers are legally sound and won’t divulge sensitive information, Shawn has one of his so-called visions thirty seconds into the conference.”

He rose to his feet and pointed a hand towards the window as if the scenario had happened just outside. “Right after I make our official statement that Trent Martin died of misadventure, Spencer just stands up and announces that Martin’s telling him"—here his voice became sarcastic and warbley—“from beyond the grave that he was pushed.

“I lost control of the entire Q&A session. I didn’t get asked a single question. Every one was directed at Santa Barbara’s most famous physic, who proceeded to answer them however he wanted.”

Roberta nodded in sympathy but did not reply, letting him vent. 

“So the Chief called us all into her office and started to reprimand Spencer but he did that thing where he twists the conversation around and before I knew it, I was asked to pursue this Martin being pushed lead. And then the Chief put the blame on me for not controlling my Q&A session. I don’t get it!” He dropped back down onto the cushions in defeat. “Where is this run of bad luck coming from? I follow the rules to the letter, I do everything the book says, but I’m always coming up short. I don’t understand.”

He sounded so very lost, so Roberta moved to sit next to him, pressing her shoulder to his. It figured that he would be a morose drunk, she thought. 

She, unfortunately, become more talkative when she drank, and so told him in all seriousness: “The problem is that you’re the antagonist. And in a comedy, so it’s even worse.”

“The antagonist? I save lives and catch killers.” He tilted his head from where it was leaning on the back of the settee to give her a wounded look. 

“You can still be the bad guy and be good, my lord. But you’re in direct opposition to the protagonist and so are doomed to fail.” 

“Who’s the protagonist here exactly?”

Roberta nudged his shoulder with her own. “Who were we just talking about?”

“The Chief?” When she widened her eyes in exasperation at him, he scowled. “Spencer. Of course.”

“The world revolves around him. His plans always work out in the end. Fate and circumstances are always in his favor.”

Carlton threw an arm over his eyes. “All right, I get it. So what am I supposed to do about it? Follow Spencer blindly into every harebrained scheme, agreeing with everything he says?”

“Not at all, my lord. You have to become a side character.” When he looked at her like she was crazy, she elaborated, “Side characters experience no major traumas, they meet and fall in love with few complications, and they live happily ever after without having to kill any dragons or power-mad wizards.” 

“You can’t just be a side character in your own life.”

“Of course you can! I’ve managed to stay out of or only have a minor role in every major conflict between the realms. My parents kept a small, quiet castle and lived long, happy lives, and I will do the same.” One could argue that her quest on behalf of the two princesses had changed all this, but Roberta wasn’t worried about it. She was trying to catch a minor jewelry thief in a small kingdom, not planning to overthrow a murderous despotic king. Everything would go back to normal in a few weeks’ time. 

“I don’t know, Roberta. That just sounds like being passive to me,” Carlton said. “And I’m not wired that way. I’ve worked too long and too hard for this position to just give it up.”

That hadn’t exactly been what she was saying, but she was also feeling a little dizzy and tired and knew that she wasn’t likely to explain herself any better just then. So instead she rose and stretched. “I’m afraid we’ll have to continue this conversation another time, my lord. It’s getting late, and I have an entire ball to plan.”

She caught his eyes on her form as she stretched but was more intrigued by the disappointment on his face as he too pulled himself to his feet. “Oh. Right. I’ll walk you out.” 

He followed her down the hall, leaning his weight on his crutch as she approached the base of the mirror. Roberta made to step forward but paused and turned back to face him. “Carlton, would you like to come and watch the tournament? You could be there to question suspects yourself.”

His brow furrowed as he took in the view through the mirror as if seeing it for the first time. “Come through there?”

It occurred to her then that he was just now realizing that he could travel through the mirror himself. “That does seem to be how it works.”

His face was set in a stubborn expression, and Roberta knew that it wasn’t going to happen before he even opened his mouth. “I can’t. I can’t afford to get stuck in some medieval town.”

Roberta’s counter argument died in her throat when she saw the way he was bracing himself for a fight. From what she had seen and heard from her time in his world, his life was full of people pushing or outright forcing him into situations he didn’t want to be in. And so she decided to respect this boundary he had put up. 

Hiding her disappointment, she gave him a small wave and pulled herself through the frame. 

“Roberta, wait.”

She spun on her heel so fast the world spun with her. “Yes?”

He hesitated, mouth twisted uncertainly, before asking, “Do you want to come over again after the tournament? We can talk through everything you’ve learned.”

It would be a late night, but Roberta thought the sacrifice of sleep well worth it. “I would like that.” She then bid him goodnight and took a step back, watching the mirror ripple. The last thing she saw as his world faded away was him looking at the room behind her with hesitant curiosity.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all those who've made it this far in this odd little AU. Also, in case anyone is wondering, Richard will not be making an appearance in this one. I know, I love him too, guys, but I wanted to work with Lassiter solo here.

Lassiter’s gaze once again fell to the time on the bottom right of his screen. 3:02 pm. Three minutes later than the last time he looked. He started bouncing his good leg beneath his desk. Would the day just hurry up and end?

Maybe it was time to take a break from pretending to write his report. He’d been working on the damned thing for hours and only had three sentences typed. 

He was absolutely useless at work that day. And not just because he was stuck behind a desk instead of out in the field where he belonged. The only thing on his to do list for the day was to wrap up his report, and he couldn’t seem to concentrate for more than a few minutes. 

He’d done an admirable job of avoiding the memory of that brief moment when he’d held Roberta in his arms. But then he’d gotten distracted by the image of her ramming her sword through the armor’s back. She’d looked like a warrior queen, powerful and fierce, and it was inconceivable that she’d been in his living room two nights ago, lounging on his couch and making him laugh with her gentle, quiet humor. 

Lassiter shook his head, mentally forcing himself back to the task at hand. It would help if he could just check in and see if the tournament had started yet. A world of enchanted mirrors and wizards and they didn’t even have cell phones. It was unacceptable. 

O’Hara slid into the chair beside his desk, jolting him out of his thoughts. “It’s Christmas, Carlton!”

“In August, O’Hara?”

“Yep. Our birthdays and Christmas combined. Guess what Forensics found buried in some sawdust?” 

He knew what he would see before O’Hara even handed the evidence bag over. There wrapped in plastic were Martin’s wallet, car keys, and cell phone. 

O’Hara beamed down at the bag. “Looks like your attacker just became our number one suspect. The mill’s so old and dusty that we haven’t found much forensic evidence though. Besides the blood you trailed all over the place that is.” 

“Sorry,” Lassiter said distractedly, rubbing his fingers against the plastic covering the wallet. His eyes flicked up to the blinking cursor on his empty report, and he was suddenly struck by how very much he didn’t want to be there. 

He dropped the bag down on his desk. “I have to go.”

“Go where?” O’Hara asked, moving out of the way of his crutch as he pulled himself to his feet.

She had a sly look in her eyes, and he appreciated that she would absolutely help him sneak out to the crime scene if he wanted. However, he had no intention of wasting his time at either the sawmill or the precinct. 

He went with the first excuse that came to mind. “Home. I’m not feeling well.”

She stopped him with a hand on his wrist, her eyes wide with alarm. “Wait, seriously? Oh my god, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Lassiter said, freeing himself from her grasp by hobbling forward. It occurred to him that claiming illness wasn’t the best excuse for him to use. He had never taken a sick day in his life. However, O’Hara was a good cop, and she’d be able to tell if he was lying. “It’s just the flu.”

It was close enough to the truth to work. While his stomach ache had receded to background noise since his stay in the hospital, after he’d had the brilliant idea to drink while on even a half dose of his medication the night before, he’d lost what little was in his stomach not long after Roberta had left. He hadn’t had much of an appetite since but suspected he wouldn’t be able to keep much down if he tried anything too ambitious. 

O’Hara continued to follow him down the hall, mouth thin with concern. “Do you want me to stop by and check on you later?”

“Of course not. I’m not dying. I’m going to go home and get some rest and I’ll be back in tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she said, wavering. “But maybe you should go see a doctor.”

“I have an appointment in a few days for my ankle,” Lassiter said. “See you tomorrow, O’Hara.”

She finally left him alone, and he was able to head out to his car in peace.

Traffic was light, and in what seemed like minutes, he was giving his reflection a dubious look as he walked down the hall. He told himself that he was simply chasing a down a suspect, but he still muttered, “I can’t believe I’m doing this” before he squeezed his eyes shut and stepped forward into the mirror. 

He was unprepared for the floor to be much higher up on Roberta’s side and thus immediately banged his shin on the unforgiving stone. Then his crutch got snagged on the frame, nearly tipping the mirror over and sending him stumbling forward right into a rack of medieval weaponry.

Lassiter leapt forward to right the tottering mirror, wincing as half a dozen swords and several battle axes clattered against the the floor behind him. Literally five seconds inside Roberta’s home and he had already wrecked half of her things. 

The door to his left was flung open to crash against the wall, and Roberta barreled in, sword raised. Lassiter jumped back with a shout of surprise and raised his crutch in defense. 

Roberta’s eyes widened and she checked her strike inches away from his arm. “Carlton?” Then she broke into a large smile and darted forward, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I didn’t think you’d come!” 

Distracted by the rush of adrenaline and the not unpleasant feeling of a longsword running down the length of his back, Lassiter brought his free arm around her in return to steady himself. “Sorry,” he managed.

She pulled back to look at the fallen weaponry. “When I heard the noise, I thought I had another suit of armor on my hands.”

“We killed it. I think we’re fine.” He tipped the rack back onto its feet and began gingerly picking up swords. “Has the tournament started yet?”

“It’s nearly over,” Roberta said as she righted a battle axe. “May I ask what made you change your mind?”

“We found Martin’s missing things with the other items swallowed by the armor, and I realized what a waste of time it was to sit around at my desk.”

“I’m glad. Not about having a killer in my world though.” She put the last sword back onto the rack and rested her hands on her hips, raising an eyebrow at him. “Before we go down to join the tournament, any other damaged possessions of mine that I should know about?” She gave the room at large a searching look.

Something in his chest bubbled at her gentle teasing, and Carlton mock scowled back at her. “Please. They’re not even scratched.” He remembered the wobbling mirror with a thrill of relief and terror. “Actually, you know what? I need to test something.”

He returned to the mirror and pressed his hand to its surface. He was immediately reassured when it passed through the liquid-like material easily, but he stepped back down into his hallway just in case. 

Roberta was watching him with a self-deprecating grin. “I didn’t even check if I could return when I first entered your home.”

“You could have been stuck with me,” Lassiter said, then mentally kicked himself for how needy he sounded. He positioned himself so he could step back through with more grace this time. 

He still had his bad foot back in his hallway when the sitting room door swung open and a solid oak of a man stuck his head in to look at Roberta. “Oy, you’re needed downstairs.” Then he saw Lassiter halfway through the mirror frame, and a predatory grin spread over his hard features. “Well, what have we here? Looks like there’s a thief that can travel through mirrors after all. I knew I should have had that torture rack built.” 

He placed a hand on his sword and stalked forward.

****

As Gareth strode toward them, looking larger and more intimidating by the second, Roberta distantly noted the irony of both her and Carlton being accosted by each other’s henchmen. But most of her thoughts were taken up with panicked floundering of how she was going to explain a man coming out of her mirror that wouldn’t result in Gareth packing both her and Carlton off to Prudence and Charity’s for an afternoon execution.

She put her hands up and made to intercept Gareth, only to be shoved back by Carlton. He placed himself between her and the henchman, puling out the small weapon sheathed beneath his arm. “Hold it. I’m armed.”

Gareth chuckled and drew his sword. “You call that tiny thing being armed?”

Roberta, who had seen the damage that so-called tiny thing could do firsthand, ducked around Carlton and held out both hands to keep the men apart. “People, please! I can explain everything.”

Neither one lowered their weapon, but Gareth at least stopped in place and Carlton quit trying to pull her back behind him. The air in the room was still very volatile, so Roberta took a deep calming breath. “Gareth, this is Carlton. He’s helping me catch our thief.” She looked back to Carlton. “Gareth is Prudence and Charity’s henchman.”

Carlton asked, “Why is their henchmen here?” at the same time that Gareth said, “What was he doing stepping out of that mirror?”

Hoping that anything she was about to say wouldn’t come back to haunt her, Roberta responded to Carlton first, “Prudence and Charity wanted a man of their own to keep an eye on things here.” She then turned to Gareth, “I bought an enchanted mirror to understand how the black knight escaped. I found Carlton along the way. He’s a knight of sorts in another world and knows a great deal about catching thieves, so I asked him to help me.” She hoped that Gareth wouldn’t press any further into how she had met Carlton. While the henchman hadn’t had much interest in the investigation, the last thing she needed was for him to decide to charge into Carlton’s world and solve things himself. 

She placed her palms downward and lowered them in a calming gesture. “Now can we please put away our weapons and agree to help each other? We’re all on the same side.” 

Her locked muscles relaxed as they obeyed, albeit reluctantly. 

Now that the danger of immediate violence had passed, Roberta turned to Gareth. “You said I was needed downstairs?”

Gareth finally dropped his gaze to hers. “Yeah, we’ve got a late entry to the contest. I told him the registration deadline was yesterday and to get lost, but he wants to talk to you.” 

“Who is he?” Roberta asked as she went to pick up the cloak she had draped over a chair.

“Galavant.”

Roberta whirled back around to face him, nearly dropping her cloak. “Gareth! We can’t turn away a knight with actual epic poems written about him.”

“Why not?” Gareth shrugged. 

“Didn’t you say that the tournament was nearly over?” Carlton said, stepping into the conversation. “You’re just going to advance this guy to the final rounds?”

“It’s going to throw off the rankings,” Gareth added.

Roberta suddenly wished that they were still fighting. “I’m sorry, but I think that slaying the crazed wizard of the northern isles earned him more than enough merit to advance a few places in a jousting tournament.” She held up a hand when both men started to speak. “It’s fine. Gareth, go tell Galavant that he can join the next round. We’ll be down shortly.”

Gareth nodded his head at Carlton. “You’re not having him go dressed like that, are you?”

Carlton looked down at his clothes with a frown, and Roberta had to agree that he wouldn’t exactly fit in. She set her cloak back down. “I’ll have Gwen find something for him.”

****

Lassiter reached for the door of the sitting room with his heart in his throat, tugging at the bottom of his borrowed gray and black doublet. The leather was smooth as butter and fit him surprisingly well, but he still felt glaringly out of place and uncomfortable. Why couldn’t Roberta have lived in a Civil War-esque world instead?

As he exited the adjoining room, Roberta rose to her feet with an eager expression, and Lassiter braced himself for hidden pity or mockery. But he was astonished to see approval in her eyes as she approached him.

Needing the extra reassurance, he swallowed and asked, “Is it too much?”

“Not at all, my lord.” She turned him to face the mirror. “You look like you belong here.”

His attention was caught by the contrast of her soft red curls with the deep blue of her gown. He liked her in her armor, but his earlier thought that she looked like a queen returned to him then.

Roberta took a step back. “You’re just missing one thing.”  
Lassiter turned to watch her, excitement rising in his chest as she went to the racks of weapons and selected a sword. This was the best case he’d ever worked on, he decided as she held it out to him. 

“I don’t know how to use this,” he warned her as he buckled it around his waist.

Roberta adjusted the straps attached to the scabbard. “We can work on that.” She stepped back to give him a final once-over. “Ready to go down?”

The door to the sitting room opened up onto a long hallway leading down to a set of spiral stairs, and it occurred to Lassiter that Roberta’s home was not the small stone house that he’d assumed it was. 

Carefully navigating the shallow steps with his crutch and booted foot, Lassiter asked, “Have you started questioning suspects yet? And what were you doing up here instead of out questioning suspects anyway?”

“I wasn’t just sitting around in my rooms,” Roberta said archly, stepping out into another hallway at the bottom of the stairs. “I only needed a moment alone to regroup.” 

They had reached an enormous set of wooden doors, but instead of opening them, Roberta turned to face him. “To be honest, Carlton, I’m feeling a little discouraged about this whole thing. I’m convinced that our thief couldn’t have been a knight. Most of us can’t afford both an enchanted mirror and a suit of armor to walk through it. But who’s to say whatever wizard, lord, queen, king, or princess is responsible is even here tonight? That’s the thing about enchanted mirrors. They could lead anywhere. In two entire worlds.”

She sounded bewildered, and Lassiter placed a hand on her arm, inwardly sighing at how awkward he looked. “This is just the first step in your investigation. These things can take months sometimes. It’s not like it is on TV.”

She just looked at him with even more confusion and alarm, and Lassiter was again reminded that he was the worst at giving comforting talks. “If this ball thing doesn’t give us any leads, we’ll come up with a new plan. Together,” he finished gruffly.

It wasn’t exactly St. Crispin’s Day speech, but Roberta gave him a grateful smile. “Together.” Then, squaring her shoulders, she grasped the handles on the wooden doors and pulled them open.

On an intellectual level, Lassiter had known that he was in a new and foreign world with as much detail and color as his own, but nothing could have prepared him for the reality of stepping into the main hall of an actual medieval castle. 

The walls were hung with banners, each embroidered with the Steingass coat of arms. The sounds of a tabor and pipe drifted through the laughter, talking, and dancing. 

The people were the biggest shock. The entire room was filled with men and women dressed in medieval garb. It struck Lassiter then that he had basically time traveled, and his steps would have faltered had Roberta not taken his arm. At least he didn’t feel so out of place in his new clothing. His elaborately tooled doublet looked rather grave compared to what some of the men were wearing.

“There’s Lord Goring!” Roberta said, peering over to the people surrounding several tables loaded with food. “Let’s go casually ask him his thoughts on the subject of robbery.”

“I think we can start off a little more specifically that that,” Lassiter said, trying to find an open space through the crowd without taking someone out with his crutch. 

He had started to lead Roberta around the fringes of the dance floor when their route was cut off by the handsomest man that Lassiter had ever seen in person. He knew immediately and instinctively that this had to be Sir Galavant. 

The knight took Roberta’s hand from Lassiter’s arm to kiss the back of it. “Roberta Steingass, could you spare a dance for the winner of your tournament?”

Lassiter, resisting the urge to take her hand back, noted with some disappointment that he had missed all the jousting, then with even more disappointment that Galavant had won.

Roberta tore her gaze away from the direction of Lord Goring to give Galavant a distracted smile. “Of course.” She craned her neck until she spotted Gareth standing near the door like a medieval bouncer and waved him over. “Carlton, would you mind waiting with Gareth for a moment?”

Lassiter didn’t see why he couldn’t go off and talk to Lord Goring himself, aside from the fact that he had no idea what said Lord looked like, but he nodded curtly. “Fine.”

Galavant swept Roberta out onto the dance floor, and Lassiter was left to watch moodily beside a pillar with Gareth. He had never hated being stuck with a crutch and bum foot more than in that moment.

“Showboating pretty boy,” Gareth muttered under his breath to the back of Galavant’s head.

Suddenly warming to the other man, Lassiter asked, “What’s that guy’s deal anyway?”

“You’re telling me you’ve really never heard of Galavant?” Gareth asked incredulously. “Where did Roberta dig you up?”

“Santa Barbara.”

“Well, if you’re asking about him and Roberta, I wouldn’t worry about it. He’s with Queen Madalena, and nobody cheats on her and keeps their balls.” Gareth sounded more than a little impressed, and Lassiter shuddered. “And Roberta’s a good sort. She wouldn’t mess around with another woman’s consort.”

Lassiter was surprised at the respect in Gareth’s voice. “Do you like working for Roberta?” From what he had gathered, Gareth was an emissary from the two princesses with the ridiculous names, but he also obeyed Roberta’s orders, so Lassiter wasn’t sure where to place him on the chain of command.

“It’s all right,” Gareth said with a shrug. “She gave me my own room for my stuff.”

“Did you not have a room over at…what were their names? Prudence and Chastity?”

“Nah, I slept down in the dungeons. It’s where I do my best work.” He gave Lassiter a chilling smile.

Lassiter remained unaffected by the attempt at intimidation, mostly. If it had come to a fight back in Roberta’s living room, he was pretty sure that he would have won. But more importantly, Gareth hadn’t corrected his intentional misuse of Charity’s name. Which was an indicator that the henchman perhaps didn’t have the best relationship with his employer.

Placing his crutch in front of him so that he could lean both hands on the handgrip, Lassiter asked, “Who do you think the thief is, Gareth?”

“I’m still not convinced that you’re not in on it somehow,” the henchman replied, giving him a threatening look. “Roberta claims we’re looking for a thief that can walk through mirrors, and then you just happen to be able to do the same. A bit too convenient, if you ask me.”

“That’s fair,” Lassiter agreed, then went silent to encourage him to keep talking. So of course, Galavant chose that moment to walk up. Lassiter looked around for Roberta and saw she was now dancing with a large man with an elaborate mustache. 

Galavant nodded at them. “Gareth.”

Gareth gave a nod in return. “Galavant.”

The knight turned to Lassiter. “Sorry, I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”

“Carlton Lassiter,” Lassiter responded. 

When Galavant continued to look at him expectantly, he added uncertainly, “…of Santa Barbara.”

“Never heard of it,” Galavant said before turning to Gareth. “You still work for the von Falconburgs, right?”

“Yeah, what of it?” Gareth responded. 

“Do you know if they’re coming tonight?”

“They don’t really do sports.”

“Damn,” Galavant said, looking broodingly off into the distance. He flagged down a nearby waiter and snagged a mug of some sort of drink off his tray. 

Lassiter took one as well when Gareth did. “Were you hoping to dance with them too?” he asked a trace sourly.

“My lady seems to think that Prudence and Charity stole some of her jewelry.”

Lassiter nearly choked on his drink. “What, really?”

“She sent me to see if they looked guilty or whatever, as if I would know, and now they’re not even here.” Galavant waved a hand around the crowded room. “And there’s no way I’m ever going to get invited to one of their roasts.”

Lassiter moved in closer to the knight, lowering his voice. “Why would she think that Prudence and Charity are behind it?”

“Some childhood rivalry. They made fun of her earrings or something like that. I really don’t understand women.”

Lassiter filed that possible motive away for later. “When did the robbery happen?”

“Last night sometime.” 

Galavant was eying Lassiter suspiciously, so he made an effort to tone down his intensity. “I’m sorry to hear that. Did anyone see the thief?”

“No.” Now Galavant gave Lassiter a conspiratorial look. “And here’s the strange part. The jewelry was locked up in a room with no window. And Madalena has the only key.”

“Was there a mirror in the room?”

“We’re talking about Madalena here. Of course there was a mirror in the room.”

So, the thief had possibly found another suit of armor to do his bidding. Lassiter had to fight to keep from vibrating in place from the need to get moving on this new information. 

“Galavant,” Lassiter began carefully. “Roberta and I are looking into a similar robbery for a benefactor. Maybe we can help you. Could we come by the castle in a few days and take a look around?”

“If it gets this task of my shoulders, then God, yes. I’m supposed to be off conquering a neighboring kingdom for Madalena, not looking for jewelry.” Galavant set his empty mug down on a passing tray. “It’s Madalena’s birthday next weekend. Why don’t you come then?”

“We’ll be there,” Lassiter said, shaking hands with the knight. He may not have especially liked Galavant and his rule-flaunting ways, but he had just given them a major lead in the case. 

Galavant sauntered off, the crowd parting before him, but Lassiter was already pushing his way to the edge of the dance floor. “Come on,” he called over his shoulder at Gareth. “We’ve got to tell Roberta.”

***

Shawn couldn’t believe his luck when he found one of Lassiter’s windows was unlocked. He swung himself up and over the sill, nearly upsetting his container of chicken soup when he landed on the living room floor. 

The alarm system was beeping, so Shawn went to the keypad and started punching in the dates of the major historical battles. He grinned when his third guess—the Battle of Bull Run, 0761—silenced it. “You are now free to move about the cabin,” he said aloud.

Lassiter hadn’t come out shooting during the commotion, which Shawn took to be a bad sign. Either the detective really had snuck out somewhere, as Jules had surmised, or he was in really, really bad shape. Like unconscious and dying bad shape. 

A quick search around the place revealed that his car was in the garage, the engine cold. But the bedroom was empty, and he did not find the detective lying unconscious on the bathroom or kitchen floor. 

Shawn stood in the living room, scratching his head and wondering what would make Lassiter use a fake illness to get out of work and then switch vehicles, when movement down at the end of the hall caught his eye.

The painting of the medieval room hanging on a closet door… Shawn could have sworn that he had just seen someone walk across it. And now that he was looking, were the clouds in the sky in the window in the background moving?

Still carrying his tupperware of soup, Shawn approached the painting, which he now suspected was actually more like a really narrow door. And sure enough, he could hear the faint sound of wind and even some music playing on the other side. 

Eyebrows raised in amusement, because only Lassiter would have remodeled his closet into a replica of a medieval room, Shawn turned sideways and stepped through the frame. He gasped when his foot banged up against the floor as he emerged on the other side. 

Hopping on one foot and hissing in pain, Shawn clutched the soup tighter as he gaped at the room around him. The temperature was a good twenty degrees cooler than Lassiter’s living room. The ambient noises of people and animals outside, the solidness of the stones, even the color of the sunset out the window, all of it was too real to be faked with speakers and lighting. 

Which meant that Lassiter had a portal to another world in his living room!

Shawn rushed to the window and stared outside. Below them was a sea of colorful tents, with armored men, squires carrying lances, and warhorses passing down the rows between them. Banners fluttered off the stone walls below. Shawn let out a whoop of laughter as it fully dawned on him that he had traveled to a medieval world right out of King Arthur’s time. 

“Holy crap, I’m in a castle!” he said, taking in the stone walls and towers above him. 

It was all too much to even think about at the moment, so Shawn turned back to the room and all but ran for one of the two doors in the room. Lassiter. He had to find Lassiter.

The door led into a bedroom with a tapestry of a hunting scene hung over the canopied bed. A girl in her late teens or early twenties was folding a long shirt on the other side of the room. When she saw him come in, she gasped, hands flying up over her mouth.

“Sorry, sorry,” Shawn said, holding his free hand out. “I’m looking for someone. About six feet tall, blue eyes, answers begrudgingly to the name of Lassie. Have you seen him?”

The girl lowered her hands, revealing the fiercest glare he’d ever seen. “Pervert! Sneaking into my lady’s bedchamber!”

“No, hey, wait!” Shawn tried to intercept her as she stormed forward, but he wasn’t fast enough to avoid the fist she threw at his face. It was like being kicked by a mule. His head snapped to the side, pain exploding out from his cheek all the way up to his eyes. 

Okay, he had really been hoping to talk his way out of this, but maybe it was time to run. Shawn tried to pull away, but the girl was on him again, grabbing him by one ear and yanking him after her out of the room.

***

“So what if one peasant steals a rock or something out of the hovel of another peasant. The rock and hovel both belong to the king, so do you execute the first peasant for taking the rock or the second one as well for not taking care of the king’s property?”

“But that’s ridiculous!” Roberta said, barely noticing as she and Goring were sideswiped by another pair of dancers.

At first she thought she might have overstepped her place, but Goring just looked thoughtful. “You’re right. That puts undo importance on the rock. Maybe just a month in the dungeons for carelessness then.”

“But—” Roberta was cut off by Carlton stepping up to them.

“Mind if I cut in?” Without waiting for the lord to respond, Carlton pulled her to him and turned on his good foot so that they were moving towards the edge of the dance. “Weren’t you supposed to be talking to him about the night of the robbery?”

“Well, I was—” she started but then noticed the barely contained excitement in Carlton’s expression. “What’s happened?”

“We’ve got a lead!” He pulled her towards the main doors. “We need to find someplace we can talk.”

“All right,” Roberta said, glancing back with perturbation as Gareth followed them out of the room.

The stairs up to her rooms in the tower were blocked by a group of squires playing a drinking game, so they went to the cellars used for storage near the base of the castle. After Gareth had entered, Roberta shut the door behind them and turned to face the two men. “Tell me.”

“There’s been another robbery,” Carlton said, looking far too pleased about it.

Roberta took a seat on a dusty old chair that had belonged to her grandmother. “Who was robbed?”

“Queen Madalena.” Gareth answered this time, giving her a significant look.

Roberta’s finger’s clenched involuntarily on the fabric of her gown. “Do you know if she suspects anyone?”

“Galavant told us that she thinks that Prudence and Charity are behind it. She sent him here to see if he could find anything out.” Carlton rested his arm on the pommel of his sword. “He says that the three women have a rivalry going back to their childhood. Do you know anything about this?” he asked Gareth.

Roberta’s eyes widened at Carlton just casually bringing Gareth into their investigation, like a hunting dog just casually bringing a bear into a home. 

Gareth shrugged. “Yeah, I heard of it. Madalena came to Sunday roast a few months back, and there were a few jokes about her earrings.”

“Any other jewelry-based rivalries we should know about?” Carlton said.

“No idea.”

“We’ll have to ask Prudence and Charity. Can you get us an appointment or an audience or whatever it’s called, Gareth?”

“No!” Roberta flew to her feet. “We are not telling them anything about this.”

Carlton’s brow furrowed. “Why not?”

“Because we can’t just tell two wealthiest royals in the realm that the most powerful queen in the realm thinks that they robbed her! Do you want to start a war?” Carlton made to reply, but she shook her head. “We need to keep them out of it until we know who’s guilty.”

“All right, fine. We’ll circle around to them later after we pursue this Madalena lead.” Carlton went over to a table resting on its side atop another table and began scribbling notes in the dust. “Now Galavant said that the jewelry was being kept in a locked room with a mirror. When we’re there next week, we can see if the mirror is still open, and if not—”

“What do you mean next week?” Roberta asked in horror. 

Gareth leaned forward to give her a grin that bordered on gleeful. “He told Galavant that you were working to solve a similar robbery and got himself invited to Madalena’s birthday party.” 

“Oh my god.” Roberta pressed her fingers to her temples. “I leave you alone for thirty seconds, and you get us involved in a huge inter-kingdom crime.”

Carlton came to her then, pulling her hands down. His blue eyes almost seemed to glow in the torch light. “Come on, Roberta. Forget about being a side character. It’s time to step up and become the main character here.”

Roberta scowled at him for using her analogy against her, but he wasn’t wrong. Talking to random people at the ball was going nowhere, and the deadline was looming. Her choices had narrowed to being executed by either two angry princesses or a malevolent queen. 

Roberta sighed, wrapping her arms around herself. “Gareth, you’re not planning on mentioning this to Prudence or Charity, are you?”

“I can keep my mouth shut,” Gareth said defensively.

“How long does it take to get to Madalena’s place?” Carlton asked, returning to the table and drawing out several rows of boxes in the dust. “I can get out of work by six on Friday.”

Roberta marched over to the table so she could look him in the eyes. “If we do this, then you have to follow my lead. My word is law,” she added, making her voice as serious and deep as it would go.  
Lassiter rolled his eyes at the mimicry. “Yes, ma’am. I promise not to compromise your crime scene.”

A prime opportunity arose then, and Roberta smiled impishly. “What are you doing tomorrow, my lord? If you’re to appear before royalty, then you’re going to need a few lessons on courtly etiquette.”

He eyed her apprehensively. “I can come over after work.”

“Not any earlier?”

“It’s bad enough that I left early today.” 

Roberta turned to Gareth, who was watching them with a bored expression. “Would you be able to give Carlton a few lessons with a sword?”

Gareth gave Carlton a predatory smile. “With pleasure. You might like carrying a real weapon for once.”

“Spoken like a man who’s never fired a gun before.”

Gareth pointed a finger at his chest. “I don’t know what that means, and I don’t care.” 

Their tones weren’t threatening exactly, but Roberta figured she’d better get them out of the enclosed space. “Okay, I think we should return to the ball now.”

Carlton pulled back his sleeve to examine some sort of metal bracelet on his wrist. “I need to head home. I’ve got a report due.” 

Roberta fought to hide her disappointment. “Oh, all right. I’ll walk you back then.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He waved her off. “I know the way back.”

And with nary a goodbye, he left the storage room and disappeared down the hall.

Gareth moved up to stand at her side. “Good luck with that one.”

“Shut up.”


	6. Chapter 6

Lassiter slashed at Gareth’s blade, using both hands to give more power to the blow. The longsword was surprisingly light, but they had been practicing for an hour and his muscles felt shaky and weak. Through the slats in his visor, spots danced across the stone walls of Gareth’s room, and he tried to remember the last time he had eaten.

Gareth blocked the attack easily, then twisted his own blade, forcing Lassiter’s sword out of his hands. “Not bad.” He raised his sword into a fighting position. “Again.”

Lassiter gave him a tired nod, bracing one armored hand on his knee to retrieve his weapon. He appreciated that Gareth wasn’t taking it easy on him, even with his injured foot, but that also meant that he would rather die than ask to take a break. 

The last few days had passed in a medieval-themed blur. He was spending the bare minimum of time at work, cutting his usual ten- to twelve-hour days down to eight. Which was just as well because the Martin case had stalled, as predicted. Lassiter wasn’t worried about it, apart from feeling bad that O’Hara was wasting her time chasing false leads. Just stepping through the mirror each evening felt like getting something accomplished, although it still boggled the mind that he was spending his free time in the fantasy Middle Ages.

Hoping to take a bit of a breather, he rested his tip of his sword on the ground and pulled off his helmet to get more air. “Why exactly are you training me? You can’t like bashing me around that much.”

“‘Cause Roberta asked me to,” Gareth said, hefting his sword up to rest over one shoulder.

“Well, yeah, but you don’t really have to take orders from Roberta.”

“I don’t have to take orders from anyone,” Gareth said. “But I figure Roberta needs all the help she can get once we get to Madalena’s. It won’t hurt having an extra swordsman on hand if we need to fight our way out of there.”

Lassiter frowned down at his battered practice sword. The way he felt just then, he’d be cut down by his first opponent. But he figured he could always use his gun if needed. 

Gareth swung his sword back down. “Now quit stalling and get your sword up. We’re going to try and go a bit faster this time. You’re moving like you’re underwater.”

He felt like he was underwater, but Lassiter raised his sword once again and moved his feet into the closest approximation of a fighting stance as he could get with his booted foot. 

Gareth gave him a critical once over. “Pull that left leg in a bit more. I once saw a man lose his leg from the knee down for having it out too far.” 

Lassiter grimaced and adjusted his form. Gareth was full of casual statements like that, and Lassiter was both intrigued and horrified by some of the things he had seen. 

Gareth turned on the ball of his foot then, bringing his blade in an arc around to strike at Lassiter’s side. Lassiter sluggishly blocked at the last second, twisting his body out of the way too slow to stop Gareth from bringing his elbow with punishing force into Lassiter’s gut.

Pain unlike anything he could remember exploded out from his stomach, sending Lassiter to his knees. It felt like he had been gutted. His fingers clawed at the flagstones as he gagged, blind to anything except the shooting pain. 

It was some time before he was aware of anything but agony, but when his vision returned, Gareth was kneeling in front of him with a frown. “You all right there, Carlton? I didn’t hit you that hard.”

“I’m fine,” Lassiter said, trying to get his gasping breaths under control. “I just wasn’t expecting that.”

He hauled himself back to his feet, swaying slightly and unable to get his arm unwrapped from around his middle. “Let’s go again.”

“Nah, we’re done for today,” Gareth said, sheathing his blade.

“I can go again.”

“I said, you’re done.” Gareth pointed a finger at him. “And be sure to put that foot up when you’re at hoity toity lessons.”

“Yes, sir,” Lassiter muttered, turning towards the chest where Gareth kept his armory. Truth be told, it would be a relief to get out of the leather armor. Just the press of it against his stomach was killing him. 

Now back in his usual black and gray doublet, he found Roberta just exiting the stairs from her tower, bow in hand. “Hullo, Carlton. How was it with Gareth today?”

Lassiter rubbed at his abdomen. “Fine. I’m sure it’ll be me battering the hell out of him in a few days.”

“I’m sure,” she grinned. 

“So what’s on the lesson plan today? How to use a soup spoon? Proper groveling?”

“Actually, I need to go hunting for dinner tomorrow. Do you want to come?”

He felt more like laying down for a while, but Lassiter still found himself nodding. He very much wanted to see her use that bow.

They trekked out of the castle and through the rows of tents still sitting on the front lawn. Lassiter nodded a greeting at a passing knight. “Everyone’s still here? The tournament ended days ago.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure why they haven’t gone back home. I’m sure they’ll move on once the next tournament is announced in some other kingdom.” 

That day couldn’t come quickly enough. Roberta had been holding their “not getting killed by Madalena” lessons in the dining hall, and they could hardly go five minutes without someone in armor or medieval livery tramping through.

They made their way into the forest beyond the castle, Roberta’s steps just as sure as they had been when she led him through Los Padres back home. 

They were picking their way across a small brook when she asked, “Have you ever been someone’s consort, Carlton?”

Lassiter, who had been more focused on the pain still radiating from his insides, snapped back to attention. “We…don’t really have consorts anymore. Why?”

“Just wondering.”

He mulled it over for a moment before finally saying, “I used to be married.”

She pulled a branch back for him to pass by. “How did she die?”

“She didn’t. We got divorced.” 

“Which means?”

Lassiter huffed out a breath. “We decided we didn’t want to be married anymore.” 

He was proud of the way it came out so casually, as if they had come to a logical conclusion and cheerfully parted ways. Victoria had been the one to ask for a divorce in the end. Lassiter had worked hard to reconcile their marriage while they were separated, but Victoria had fallen in love with someone else. Their divorce had been finalized for over two years now.

At first he could only look back on it with anger and a deep feeling of betrayal, but after being press-ganged into therapy, he had come to see his own fault in how his marriage had ended. He had gotten his Masters and worked his way up to head detective in an attempt to quiet a voice that told him that he would never be good enough, and her indifference to any of his accomplishments hadn’t helped. So he had let the job consume him. When she had tried to reach out to him later, he had been so busy with work that he hadn’t even noticed. She had put the final nail in the coffin, but he was the first to give up on their marriage.

Then there was Lucinda. Lonely and craving affection after two years of separation, he hadn’t cared that she was his partner and that she only wanted a physical relationship with no strings attached. He had been more than ready to lose himself in hurried, meaningless couplings. So it came as a shock that sleeping together only left him feeling empty and isolated. 

Their partnership deteriorated rapidly, and when Shawn had opened his big mouth to announce that Lassie was sleeping with his partner, it had been almost a relief when Barry transferred away. But Lassiter had deeply regretted the loss of their working dynamic and the fact that he had used his partner for brief gratification and allowed himself to be used in return.

He had been on a few dates since then, but Lassiter was beginning to think that another relationship wasn’t in the cards for him. He was married to his work, and he was tired of being left alone at the table while his date snuck out the back, tired of only being used to make former boyfriends jealous. But there were so many things he would do differently if he could go back and do it all over again.

Lassiter came out of his reverie when Roberta caught his arm to keep him from stepping right into a patch of nettles. Embarrassed at not paying attention, he asked her irritably, “Do you not have divorce here?”

“Not really. When a king or queen wants out of their marriage, they just have their significant other killed.”

Lassiter wouldn’t have put that past Victoria, now that he thought about it. 

His curiosity arose as he watched her cutting her way through the thick undergrowth. “What about you? Have you ever been married?”

“I had a few sweethearts growing up. And then a boyfriend when I was in the army.” Lassiter blinked at the anachronistic term. “But no, I’ve never been married.”

She seemed content with herself, but Lassiter blurted out, “You’ll find someone.”

He felt his face heat as soon as he said it, because he always hated it when people said empty platitudes like that to him. But now that he was thinking about it, he couldn’t imagine what sort of man could command a woman like Roberta’s attention. He pictured Lord Goring’s yellowing mustache and then Galavant’s perfect smile and felt his shoulders tighten.

“I have…I mean, I will,” she corrected herself, and great, now they were both blushing. Lassiter wondered how he was always able to make a perfectly normal conversation awkward within five minutes. 

He was saved from any attempt to salvage the topic and no doubt make everything worse by Roberta coming to a halt in front of a large round bush. “This is it,” she said in satisfaction. Then she dropped to her knees and crawled inside. 

Lassiter eyed the bush dubiously for a moment before following her, cursing as he tried not to get leaves inside his boot. As he cleared the outer leaves, he saw that it hollow inside, with the branches making a domed roof overhead. Roberta had gone to lie on her stomach near the front where a sparse section of leaves revealed an overlook down to a small waterfall with a pond at its base. She pulled her bow free from her back and rested it beside her. 

Lassiter couldn’t think of anything worse than resting on his stomach at the moment, so he lay down on his back beside her.

The awkwardness between them dissipated into contented silence as he looked up at the darkening sky. The distant sound of running water was soothing, and his stomach ache faded now that he was lying down. 

Beside him, Roberta went deeply still, her breathing slowing as she settled in to wait. 

He must have slept then, because next thing Lassiter knew, it was full dark and a quarter moon was shining down from overhead. 

“Any luck?” he asked muzzily, stretching. He frowned in confusion when he noticed that he had somehow become covered with Roberta’s cloak. 

“Not yet,” Roberta said, seemingly unconcerned. “I think all the knights running around my lands have scared the game farther afield. We’ll give it another half hour.”

“Okay,” Lassiter said, relaxing back into the leaves beneath him. He wouldn’t have minded spending the night out there, save for the early morning rush to get back in time for work.

Roberta exhaled softly and rested her chin down on her folded arms. “How are things back in your world?”

“Shawn’s apparently gone missing. So the Chief’s put the entire investigation on hold.”

“You’re not worried?”

“Of course not. He’s disappeared before and been fine.” Although Lassiter was hoping that the fake psychic had vanished in frustration over being utterly useless on this case—not even Shawn would be crazy enough to tell the Chief that he’d had a vision about a suit of armor that could walk though mirrors—he knew that Shawn would somehow find a way to make everything work in his favor.

He put his forearm over his mouth to hide a yawn. “He’ll show up in a few days with some key piece of evidence or a suspect ready to confess to everything.” 

When he heard Roberta shift, he raised his head to give her a look. “And don’t say that it’s because he’s the protagonist.”

“I won’t…but he is,” Roberta said with a shrug.

“There’s nothing I can do about it anyway.”

Roberta paused. “You could always switch genres.” 

Lassiter smirked. “You mean make my life the gritty hardboiled detective novel it’s supposed to be?”

The leaves rustled, and then she was leaning over him, her hands braced on either side of his shoulders. “I meant more like a medieval-themed musical comedy, my lord.”

He didn’t really understand what she had said, but Lassiter found himself more distracted by the position she had him in. Her eyes were bright, and her hair fell around them like a curtain. His fingers went to touch the red curls of their own accord, and he swallowed at how soft the strands were.

He took a steadying breath and asked, “Do you—”

“Oy!” a voice called from a few feet away, sending Roberta tumbling sideways into the leaves with a startled cry.

Lassiter scrambled up into a sitting position. “Oh, Gareth. Hello.”

“This had better be important,” Roberta grumbled, pulling her bow out from beneath her and checking it for damage.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Gareth said from where he was crouched just outside, sounding anything but. “You’re needed back at the castle.”

“Sure, okay,” Lassiter said, hurrying to crawl out of the bush with what was left of his dignity intact. 

Once he was on his feet, Roberta held out a hand to him from inside the bush, and Lassiter gave it a business-like shake, aware of Gareth’s eyes on them. It was only after she had given him a confused look and pulled herself out to stand beside them that he realized with a sinking sensation that she might have been asking for help up.

“What’s happened?” she asked, brushing the leaves off of her armor.

“There’s a man down in the dungeons who wants to speak with you.”

“I thought I told you to stay out of the dungeons, Gareth.”

“I did,” the henchman said, crossing his arms. “But there’s a hundred knights, squires, and servants living here. My men and yours are still breaking up fights, putting a stop to drunken carousing and the like. I have to see who’s down there every so often.” 

Roberta rubbed at her temples. “This thing is so much more complicated than I wanted it to be. Okay, fine, I’ll see what he wants.”

Gareth shook his head, a grin spreading over his scarred features. “Actually, he’s asked to speak with _Lassie_ here.”

Lassiter felt the blood drain from his face. “Oh hell, no.”

***

Lassiter didn’t know exactly what to expect as he trailed after Gareth and Roberta down to the dungeons. Shawn having befriended every prisoner in the place and leading them all in a rousing song maybe. Actually, he was surprised that Shawn hadn’t become best friends with Gareth and been let out to start running the place. 

Lassiter clenched his fists at the injustice of it. He’d found a place where he was starting to feel comfortable. A place that was just his. And now, as if he could sense it from worlds away, Shawn had to barge in and take over and make sure that one of the few good things in Lassiter’s life was taken away from him. 

But Shawn was not palling around with the other prisoners down in the dungeon. He was sitting glumly in the back of his cell, polo shirt torn and dirty, and with a bruised cheek somewhat hidden by a few days’ growth of stubble.

“Lassie!” he cried, coming up to grip the cell bars. “I have never been so glad to see you. Even in tights.”

“What are you doing here, Shawn?” Lassiter snapped, resisting the urge to cross his arms for more coverage.

“It’s not my fault! This freakishly strong girl cold cocked me and dragged me down here. I hadn’t even done anything yet.” 

Gareth spoke from his place near the back wall. “Gwen says she put him in for gross ribaldry and perversion.” 

“Why wasn’t I told about this sooner?” Roberta leaned up to murmur to him. 

“He kept asking for someone named Lassie. I thought he was a run-of-the-mill loon.”

Lassiter rubbed at his eyes. “How did you even get here?” Could Shawn have somehow found his way through the mirrored wall at the mill? There were all sorts of things that he and Roberta might have missed while he was bleeding out.

His alarm bells went off when Shawn looked slightly abashed. “Well, I went over to your house to check on you since you went home sick.”

“You broke into my house?!”

“The window was practically wide open. You really need to protect your home better, Lassie. There’s dangerous people out there.”

“That’s what the security system is for,” Lassiter said through gritted teeth. “Wait. How’d you get past my security system?”

“We’ve known each other for years. I can divine any password you have in three tries.”

“So then you went snooping through my house—”

“—and found your secret medieval door, yeah. How do you get one of those? The black market? Amazon?”

“That’s none of your business. You’re going to go right back through it and forget you ever saw any of this.” He gestured for Gareth to come unlock the cell. Panic and anger coursed through him at the thought of Shawn bringing Guster and who knows what other stragglers to tromp through Roberta’s home. Or worse, blabbing about it to half the SBPD.

Shawn stood back from the bars as the henchman went to the lock. “This whole thing is about the Martin case, isn’t it?”

Lassiter forcefully adjusted one of his sleeves. “What makes you say that?”

“She’s here.” Shawn pointed at Roberta, who was watching the exchange with a dubious expression. “And while at first I thought that you just took your King Arthur cosplay a little too far, there’s no way you’d skip out on work for it.” Gareth swung the door open then, and Shawn darted from the cell and over to Lassiter. “Come on, Lassie, you know you need me. When’s the last time you solved a case without my help?”

Lassiter felt his face heating, not the least because Shawn was pointing out one of his biggest insecurities in front of Roberta and Gareth, two people he very much wanted to respect him. 

Shawn seemed to sense the source of his weakening defenses, because he sauntered over to the others. “Good to see you again, Roberta. Sweet bow.”

He then turned to Gareth. “You are a big dude. I’ll bet you’ve fought all sorts of bears and lions and vikings and stuff. What’s that scar from?”

Lassiter looked morosely over at the exchange. How was Shawn so good at befriending people so quickly? 

Gareth’s expression did not soften. Instead he grasped Shawn about the collar with both hands and lifted him up a good three feet off the ground.“That is the lady of the castle,” he said, shaking the smaller man a bit. “And you will speak to her and her friends with respect. Now I believe that Carlton here told you to get lost, so that’s exactly where you’re going to get.”

Lassiter managed to snap his jaw shut, and he hurried forward before Gareth could strangle Shawn. “Gareth, hey, let him go. He’s fine.”

Gareth gave him a disappointed look, but he released his hold on the psychic. 

Shawn darted forward to put Lassiter between him and the henchman. “I can see why you like it here. Everyone’s first reaction is violence,” he said to Lassiter’s back.

Lassiter grasped him by the forearm and pulled him towards the stairs. “Come on. It’s time to go home, Spencer.”

“Fine,” Shawn said sulkily as he followed Lassiter out of the dungeon, but he turned back to call to a ratty-looking man in the nearby cell, “Hope you enjoyed the cold soup, Brian. You can keep the tupperware.”

Lassiter didn’t think for a second that the fight was over and knew that Shawn would attempt to sneak back as soon as he got the chance. But at the moment, he just wanted to get the fraudulent psychic away from Roberta and Gareth before he caused any damage.

When they reached Roberta’s rooms, Shawn approached the mirror with nonchalance, reaching forward to flick the glass. “How does this thing work?”

“You step into it,” Lassiter said, resisting the urge to just push him through. “Even you should be able to figure that out.”

Shawn spun around to give him a salute. “See you on the other side.” He moved to step backwards through the mirror, but his foot did not pass through. Instead it stopped right up against the rippling surface. He turned to give the frame a shake. “Why isn’t it working?”

Lassiter pushed Shawn’s hand away before he could knock the whole thing over. “Would you just step through like a normal person?” he snapped, heart in his throat.

“Oh, sorry, Lassie, I didn’t know there was an abnormal way to use a magical mirror,” Shawn said, but he obediently stepped forward. Again, his shoe would not break the surface.

Now beginning to panic, Lassiter shouldered Shawn out of the way and pressed on the glass himself. His hands went through with no problems, and he was able to step down into his hallway. 

“Okay, now try,” he told Shawn.

Shawn obediently reached forward and pressed both hands to the surface. “I don’t think this is working.”

“Excuse me,” Roberta said, stepping up to the mirror. She waited for Shawn to step aside and then tried it herself. She too was able to step down into the hallway beside Lassiter.

“Let’s try Gareth,” she said, gesturing for him to come forward. 

The henchman crossed his arms. “Hell, no. I’m not getting cut in half when that thing suddenly stops working.”

Lassiter couldn’t argue with him there. He looked over at Roberta. “Why won’t it work for him?”

“It’s got to have something to do with Wondrous Sal’s spell. I probably should have read the fine print more carefully.”

“Uh, guys?” Shawn said, peering around the frame at them. “How exactly am I supposed to get home?”

Roberta and Lassiter looked at each other with growing trepidation. 

****

Roberta leaned back against her desk, watching Carlton pace across her favorite rug. Shawn kept poking at the mirror as if it would somehow magically start working again. And Gareth stood near the door as if to prevent Shawn from making a break for it. 

She had been hoping to give Carlton some space to think through everything, but when it became clear he was spiraling, she stepped forward into his path. “This isn’t the end of the world. I’ll just pop down to Wondrous Sal’s tomorrow and ask him to respell the mirror.”

“And in the meantime, I can help you solve the case,” Shawn said with a cocksure grin, and Roberta had to commend him for taking the whole possibly being trapped for the rest of his life in another world thing in stride. 

Carlton didn’t look any less stressed, so she turned to Gareth. “Would you find Shawn a room for the night?”

Gareth gave her a look that made her feel like the dullest peasant in the village. “And where am I going to find that? The whole place is packed with every lord in the land.”

Roberta thought about seeing if one of the squires could put him up in their tent but immediately quashed the idea. Judging from Carlton’s reaction, it wouldn’t be a good idea to leave Shawn unsupervised. 

“You know, it seems to me like he already had perfectly good accommodations these past few nights,” Gareth said, one side of his mouth tipping up.

Roberta raised an eyebrow. “Gareth, we can’t just keep him in the dungeons.” But as soon as she said it, she realized that it actually wasn’t a bad idea. They couldn’t toss him in and throw away the key, of course, but they could make the stay a little more comfortable. 

She gave Shawn an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid we’re short on rooms here, my lord.” She caught a flash of what she’d almost have said was betrayal on Carlton’s face, but when she caught his eye for clarification, he only looked away, so she continued, “Would you mind sleeping in the cells for now? We’ll keep the door open and put in some bedding.”

Shawn seemed less than enthusiastic at the thought, but he finally nodded. “It will give me a chance to finally master Brian’s roasted rat recipe.”

Making a mental note to get better food down to the prisoners, Roberta went to her bedroom door to call in Gwen, who was dressing down the bed for the night. “Gwen, could you please help Gareth set up a room for Shawn?”

Gwen too looked less than enthusiastic about the prospect once she saw who she would be making up a room for. “Of course, my lady.” She went out the study door, hissing, “pervert!” at Shawn as she passed. 

Shawn looked crestfallen at the insult, and Roberta made another mental note to talk to Gwen about it later. She appreciated that the maidservant had been protecting her rooms, but Shawn was a guest now and should be treated as such. 

Shawn made to follow Gareth out the door, keeping a good distance back from the henchman, but Carlton held up a hand. “Give me your phone.”

“If you’re trying to text embarrassing things to my contacts, then you’re out of luck. We don’t get reception here. I’ve checked.” 

“I’m going to text the Chief and O’Hara as you and tell them that you’re not kidnapped or dead,” Carlton responded, taking the phone. “Let me guess, your password is 8008?”

“Don’t be immature, Lassie. It’s 1138, obviously.” He peered over the top of the phone as Carlton pressed the numbered buttons. “Where are you going to tell them I’ve gone?”

“An arcade probably. Or maybe a psychic conference in Reno. You people have those, right?”

Shawn shrugged. “I guess. Tell Gus I’m okay too. And my dad. Did my dad ask about where I was?”

“I have no idea,” Carlton said, stuffing the phone into his pocket. 

“Never mind,” Shawn said. “Don’t tell him anything.” He then followed Gareth out.

The door shut behind them, and Carlton looked over at the mirror with resignation on his features.

Roberta wanted to say something to reassure him, but she wasn’t sure that she wouldn’t make everything worse. She remembered how he had looked when his tracking party left him standing alone in the clearing.

So, as she had done in the forest, she decided to redirect him. She slowly approached and then wrapped her arms around him. 

She wondered if it wasn’t a mistake as he went rigid at the contact. He wasn’t exactly in the greatest moods and might not want to be touched. But just before she began to pull back, she felt his arms come around her in return. 

They both remained still for a long moment, and Roberta let herself enjoy the sensation of being held.

Carlton finally let out a long breath. “Roberta, earlier when you said that thing about switching genres…I was thinking, maybe even if Spencer solves the entire case tomorrow—” 

When Roberta snorted at the thought, he dropped his chin so that it brushed her hair. “You don’t know what he’s like. But even after this is all over, I was thinking that maybe I could keep coming over here sometimes. Just to see how everything’s going,” he finished quickly.

She pulled back to grin up at him. It was a far cry from a decision to leave his world forever and come live with her, but considering his original stance on magic in general, this was a big step for him. “You will always be welcome here, Carlton.”

“Really?” he asked hesitantly, a smile starting to grow on his face.

“Of course! I didn’t ask you to come to my tournament to interrogate suspects. I mean, yes, that was part of it. But I more asked you because I enjoy your company and wanted to spend more time with you.”

“Oh,” he said softly, his gaze flicking down to her mouth. Roberta tilted her head up, her heart beginning to race. But he only cleared his throat. “Well, I’d better get going. Good night, Roberta.”

She clenched her hands behind her but still managed to give him a mostly cheerful smile. “Good night, my lord.”

He stepped back, and she was still watching him when the mirror took him away.


	7. Chapter 7

“So you’re telling me that Trent Martin’s murderer is a literal walking suit of armor?” Shawn asked as they passed the village entrance.

“Pretty much,” Roberta said distractedly.

“Jenkies,” Shawn muttered, then fell silent as they entered the main square and he was immediately assaulted by an onslaught of sights and sounds. His brain went into overdrive trying to memorize the details from each person to the next, taking in features, clothing, posture, but never really making any connections. He had no idea if that man’s hat marked him as a rich guy or the village idiot. Why did he have to go through an Egyptian phase as a kid and not a medieval one?

Or better yet, why did Lassiter have to sneak off and solve crimes by himself in another world to begin with? 

Shawn didn’t get this place at all. For one thing, everyone seemed to hate him on sight. He had immediately been thrown in the dungeon by that girl with the weird braids. When he tried to befriend the guy in the next cell, he’d had his soup stolen. 

And then there was Gareth. Shawn had tried to talk with him over breakfast, but he’d only gotten a “Don’t even bother, mate. I have no sense of humor and I’ve killed men who weren’t as big as idiots as you” for his troubles.

Shawn took a moment to check Roberta out as she led him through the market. She was the only person that didn’t seem to actively loathe him, so she was his in. And after dealing with Lassie no doubt pushing her to follow protocols every second of the day, she was probably ready to hang out with someone more fun.

He trotted up to walk beside her. “Do you have any suspects? Is your suspect a wizard? Please tell me it’s a wizard.”

“It’s probably not the best idea to discuss it in public, my lord,” she said, giving an apologetic smile to a group of men in friar robes who were staring at them.

“I think I can help you though. I don’t know what else Lassie told you, but I’m a psychic. You saw some of my powers that day in the forest.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “I saw you lead the entire hunting party away while Carlton and I went after the real killer.”

Shawn snapped his fingers. “I was going to ask you about that! It got in to the saw mill from the bathroom wall, didn’t it?”

“Again, not something we should really be talking about in front of the whole village, my lord.”

“How about someplace not so public?” Shawn pointed to the sign for the Armored Swan tavern. “Want to get a drink?”

She shook her head, walking right past the door to turn down a side alley. “I’m afraid I only brought a few sovereigns with me, and we really should get to Wondrous Sal’s shop before he goes on lunch break.”

Shawn darted in front of her so she was forced to either stop or bowl him over. “Okay, did I do something to piss you off or something? You’ve been ignoring me all morning.”

Roberta blinked at him for a moment before bending her head to rub at her temple. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Like what?”

“Well, sending you home for one.”

Shawn hooked his thumbs into his trouser pockets. “Why don’t we forget Stupendous Sam or whatever his name is for today? Roberta, you look like the kind of woman who needs to have a psychic consultant on her team. And I am totally available for hire.”

“I’m actually a bit torn on that,” she said, leaning her back against the opposite wall of the alley. “Carlton seems to think that if I turned you loose, you’d have everything sorted by this afternoon.”

“Really?” Shawn asked, a grin breaking over his face at Lassiter’s compliment. No doubt she was leaving out some uncreative insults as well, but he’d take what he could get.

“But I’m not sure it’s a good idea to bring another stranger into this. I mean, no offense, but you don’t exactly blend in or seem especially tactful.”

“But that’s a good thing!” Shawn said, sliding across the alley to rest up against the wall beside her. “Sometimes you need someone with phenomenal cosmic powers to stir the pot.”

“Not when that pot is Queen Madalena,” Roberta said, shuddering. “I heard she slaughtered an entire family of dressmakers to make her gown more exclusive. And that she once had a man killed just for sneezing too loudly down the road from her castle.” 

“And you think that taking Lassie with you to meet with the ice queen is a good idea? Random people passing him on the street find him abrasive. Plus the sight of him in tights is enough to send anyone into a murder spree.”

Before he could blink, Roberta was in front of him again, arms crossed. “Insulting the man who saved my life isn’t helping your case.” Then she turned and started down the alley again.

“Woah, easy!” Shawn said, holding his hands out in a placating gesture as he sauntered after her. “I wasn’t trying to sully his virtue or anything.”

Roberta whirled to face him again. She seemed to start to speak, but she paused and took a deep breath. “Shawn, can I ask you something?”

“Yes, this is my natural color.”

She rolled her eyes. “Why did you break into Carlton’s house?”

“Because he was acting weird that day when he claimed that he tripped into these bushes, and he had these bruises. Then yesterday he left work sick, and Lassiter never admits that he’s sick. I’ve seen him come into work with walking pneumonia and refuse to go home.”

“That does sound like him,” she sighed. “So you were worried about him?”

“Well, yeah,” Shawn said, then hurriedly added, “Worried that he was out solving the case by himself and leaving me and Jules out of it. I’m not an expert but I think that other time periods have got to be out of his jurisdiction.” 

Roberta nodded thoughtfully before starting back down the alley again, gesturing for Shawn to follow. “All right, you can join our ‘team,’ so to speak. _But_ ,” she said, putting a stop to Shawn’s premature fist pump, “you have to ask Carlton’s permission.”

“No problem,” Shawn said, already thinking of the many ways that he could maneuver Lassiter into agreeing.

He must have been grinning a little too widely because Roberta continued, “And if he says no, then you have to abide by it the first time. No arguing or trying to talk him around.” 

“Oh, come on!” Shawn said, throwing up his hands. “He’s going to need at least a little convincing. You don’t know what Lassie is like, Roberta.”

“I know him well enough to know that he has no idea that you might actually want to be his friend.”

That threw Shawn for a loop. He’d never really put a name to his attempts to approach Lassiter before. “If he would just lighten up a little—”

“You can’t control how other people act, I’m afraid,” she said, coming to a stop at the end of the alleyway. “The only thing that matters is what you do in response. So, do we have a deal?”

Not entirely sure what he was agreeing to, Shawn shook hands with her anyway. 

She gave him a smile and stepped out of the alley. “Right. Let’s see about sending you home.” She trailed off as she came to a dead stop in the middle of the street. “Or not.”

Shawn came up next to her and followed her gaze to the empty stall directly in front of them. A garnish sign bearing the words “Wondrous Sal’s Shoppe of Wondrous Wonders” now had the words “Out of Business” painted over it.

Shawn didn’t try to hide his sigh of relief. It looked like things were finally working out in his favor.

*****

Lassiter slid up on the examination table, scowling as he tried to keep his paper gown from falling off. Why he needed to undress when they were just going to take a look at his foot was beyond him. 

He had wanted to cancel the entire appointment, but the doctor’s office had been bugging him about it for days now, and he was hoping that he would finally be allowed to wear shoes again. Then he could hopefully make some real headway in sword fighting.

He wasn’t too disappointed about missing those lessons that evening though. He was more anxious about seeing Roberta again after how they had left things. He had spent most of that day analyzing their interaction and had come to the conclusion that she might actually like him, as juvenile a term as that was. That she was attractive was something that he had been trying to ignore almost from the moment he’d met her, but that she might be interested in him hadn’t dawned on him until the night before. 

There was a knock on the door to the examination room, and a moment later Doctor Sarkar entered, his file in hand. “How are we feeling today, Detective Lassiter?”

“Like finally getting this thing off my foot.”

He was surprised when she did not smile in return. She’d been his doctor for years and had seen him through a number of illnesses and injuries, so she was familiar with his surly facade.

She took a seat at the computer and placed the file down on the counter. “We’ll take a look at that in a moment. But first we need to go over your test results.”

Lassiter’s stomach dropped. He’d had a dirty cloth wrapped around an open wound, and the mill was full of rusted machinery. Plus, who knew what kind of horrible new diseases he’d been exposed to over in Roberta’s world. 

“Your results came back clean for tetanus and bacterial infection. However, we noticed a decrease in your red blood cell count. We can run additional tests, but these early results have confirmed a diagnosis of cancer.” She moved her hand from his file to her leg, palm up. “Have you been experiencing pain concentrated anywhere besides the ankle?”

Lassiter’s brain took a moment to register the question. “My stomach,” he finally rasped. “For a few weeks now. The pain seemed to go away after I left the hospital, so I thought it was just a bug.”

“That was probably the Vicodin.” She rose to her feet and approached the table. “Lie back, please. Your chart says that you’re dangerously close to being underweight. Have you experienced any nausea or vomiting?”

Lassiter nodded, grunting as she pressed down on his abdomen and pain shot up through to his chest. “A few times.”

“Are you able to keep anything down?”

Lassiter nodded again, staring sightlessly at the ceiling. “I haven’t had much of an appetite. I think as long as it’s nothing too spicy or acidic.”

“Okay. Stick to bland, simple foods over the next few days, and we’ll start you on something to help decrease the acid in your stomach. You’ve lost some weight since the hospital, and we’re going to have to intubate if you can’t eat.” She returned to his file to scribble down some notes as Lassiter sat up again. “I’ll schedule you for CT scan and some additional blood tests so we can see what we’re dealing with.”

“Look, Doc,” Lassiter said, resting his forearms on his knees to alleviate some of the pain from where she had pressed at his abdomen. “Tell me what my chances are here. You know how I feel about all that bedside manner crap.”

She nodded, looking into his eyes. “We may need to surgically remove part or all of the stomach and lymph nodes. And there are radiation and chemotherapy treatments, which you’ll discuss with your oncologist.” When he continued to look at her, she looked down and continued, “But with your symptoms and the early test results, it’s likely further advanced at this point.”

“How long?”

“We won’t know for sure until the CT scan.”

“How long typically?”

“Six months. Maybe nine with chemo.” She rose to her feet and motioned for him to put his foot up on the table. “But there are always new advances in treatments and—”

Lassiter didn’t hear the rest then as she proceeded with the examination of his foot. 

She gave him a list of foods that were easy to digest as well as a prescription for a higher dosage of pain medication. Then she sent him home with instructions to take it easy until the CT scan next week. Lassiter vaguely remembered nodding, although he had no intention of doing any such thing.

He sat in the parking lot for a long time afterwords, still clutching the list in one hand. Doctor Sarkar was legally obligated to inform the department of his diagnosis. Which meant that he was on desk duty for the rest of his life. 

In a way, that made things easier. He could fully devote himself to solving the case on Roberta’s side of the mirror. His entire life’s purpose had narrowed down to this case. He could fall apart later when it was over. 

She couldn’t know that he was sick. At best, she’d look at him with pity; he’d lose the respect and trust that he’d built with her. At worst, she’d want him to stay home because she thought him weak. 

He’d have to start distancing himself with her. Holding her in his arms, kissing her, those were things he couldn’t allow himself to think about anymore. They would only distract him from catching the killer and thief.

His resolve lasted only until he returned home to his empty house. His childhood home now seemed utterly still and cavernous; the thought of laying in the dark bedroom and trying to fall asleep was terrifying. 

He stepped through the mirror before he could give himself time to think about it. 

*****

Roberta was awoken from a restless sleep by a brisk knock on her bedroom door. Pulling on her robe, she crawled out of bed and immediately winced as her feet hit the frigid stone floor. She stopped to toss another few logs in the fireplace before going to the door.

She opened it a few inches, rubbing at her eyes with her wrist. “Yes, what is it?”

“Hey, I thought we could go over the plan for tomorrow.” Roberta lifted her head upon hearing Carlton’s voice and not Gwen’s. 

“Right now?” she asked, opening the door a bit farther. He looked, for lack of a better word, intense. He was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, although that may have been from just the cold. “In the middle of the night?”

“There’s no such thing as being over prepared.” 

“All right then,” Roberta muttered, pulling back so that he could enter. It was one thing to discuss an investigation on four hours of sleep and quite another to do it in a cold sitting room with no fire.

The detective stopped a few feet inside her room, his gaze flicking over to her rumpled bed and then to her nightgown. “Did I wake you up? I saw light and—”

“I’m up now,” Roberta said, walking past him. “I was worried when you didn’t come over earlier.”

“Sorry.” 

Roberta took a seat on the end of her bed, looking up at him expectantly, but he only stared at the fire with a blank expression. She could see tremors running through his frame.

She decided then that she was not going to sit out in a freezing room all night, but neither was she going to huddle under the blankets alone like an invalid with a relative visiting her on her deathbed. 

An opportunity presented itself as her gaze fell on his shoes. “Your boot’s gone! Does this mean your foot has healed?”

He turned halfway towards her and looked down at his feet. “Yeah, mostly. I’ll always have a limp.”

“May I see?” Without waiting for his response, she took his hand and guided him up to the top of the bed. She nudged his shoulder to get him to sit down against the pillows and waited until he pulled his feet up on top of the blankets. 

“Wrong foot,” he said as she knelt on the other side of his legs on the bed and began untying his shoe.

Smiling to herself, Roberta dropped it off the side of the bed and removed the other one then. The foot was bound by a tight sock, and she gingerly slid it down a ways so she could look at the skin. It was healing well, although it still looked somewhat raw. And there was still a distinct difference in texture on what she had been told were called skin grafts, but some tension in her eased at seeing him mending from the injury that he had gotten saving her life. 

She replaced the sock and went to lean up against the headboard on the opposite side of the bed. “You wanted to go over the plan for tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” he said, the word coming out slow and tired. His shivering had lessened now that he was halfway laying down on top of the bedwarmer. 

“All right,” Roberta said, and went into a meandering description of her attempts to borrow another horse for the journey. As she spoke, she pulled the blankets up over herself, casually throwing them over his legs as well.

She then went into a one-sided discussion of the different roads they might take, watching out of the corner of her eye as Carlton struggled to keep his eyes open. When they finally stayed closed, she allowed her voice to fade into silence and reached up to carefully undo that slip of cloth from around neck.

Sliding back down, she pulled on the pillows beneath him until he was lying more or less flat. He stirred at the movement, mumbling, “I should get going,” and clumsily reaching for the top of the blankets to push them down.

Roberta caught his hand and instead brought it to the side so that his arm was pillowing her head. “Shhh, go to sleep, Carlton.”

He was out again almost immediately, and Roberta rolled her eyes as she pulled the blankets up almost over their heads. “Stubborn man,” she murmured before dropping off to follow him into sleep.

When she awoke the following morning, Carlton was still in her bed, and Roberta rose quietly to get dressed. 

She watched him as she did up her vanguards. He was curled on his side away from her, his arms wrapped around himself. His shirt had ridden up, and her head cocked to the side as she looked at his back. He was awfully thin. Had his spine always been that prominent? 

She thought back to that day in the hospital. She had been busy looking at the bruises on his back—and to be honest, admiring his form—but she thought she would have noticed if he had looked like he was starving. She frowned as she remembered him just picking apart his muffin in the cafeteria. And come to think of it, she’d only seen him take or bite or two during their dinners over the past few days.

He was a grown man and could take of himself, Roberta reminded herself. But she had also come to think of him as hers. So maybe she would see if she could get some breakfast in him before starting the rest of her day.

However, when she returned to her room with a tray of various foods from Barnabas’ continental breakfast, Carlton was gone.

****

Lassiter pulled his car into his usual spot and sat for awhile, nibbling on a saltine and bracing himself for the day ahead. He hadn’t taken any of his new medication yet, both because he wasn’t allowed to drive while on them and because of a naive hope that the pain would just go away, but the ever increasing ache in his gut was a continual reminder of how much everything was about to change. 

He made it to his desk but hadn’t even turned on his computer before Vick appeared at his elbow. “Could you please come into my office for a minute, Carlton?”

Lassiter sighed at the “Carlton,” and especially at the “please.” “Sure, Chief.”

He slid down into the chair across from her desk. “I take it you got a phone call about me yesterday?”

She nodded. “How are you feeling?”

And now she was asking him how he was feeling. “Fine.”

To his horror, she actually began to tear up. “I’m so sorry, Carlton.” 

“No, hey, Chief—”

He half rose out of his chair with some vague notion of comforting her, but she kept talking. “I was always aware of how much of yourself you gave to this job. Long hours, weekends, overnight stakeouts. I ask so much of you that I forget that you’re human sometimes.”

Lassiter looked down, unsure of what to say to that. He had wanted her to think him invincible, able to take on whatever case load she gave him. 

Finally, he forced himself to lounge back in his chair. “Come on, Chief. A few hours of overtime didn’t do this to me. Besides, I feel fine right now. Did Doctor Sarkar tell you that I’m cleared physically as far as my foot goes?”

“Yes, but she also told me that you were supposed to rest.” She swiped at her eyes in a manner he would have almost called embarrassed were it anyone else but Karen Vick. “Do you want to take some time off? You have enough saved up.”

That had been his plan yesterday so he could devote himself entirely to the Martin case. But after going over to Roberta’s in hopes of distracting himself with shop talk and instead ending up warming her bed all night, he was worried that his usual method of ignoring everything else except the case might not get him through this.

So he shook his head. “I want to work.”

“You’re at least going to take the rest of the day off.” She took a breath as if gathering her thoughts. “Have you told O’Hara yet?”

He would rather have a thousand tubes shoved down into his stomach than have that conversation with his partner. But she would wonder why he wasn’t out in the field now that his foot was on the mend. “I will on Monday.”

Vick nodded her approval. Then she placed her hand palm up on her desk. “And you know that I’m going to have to ask for your gun.”

Lassiter told himself not to take it personally, that the sudden flash of anger was irrational. She was only following protocol. But as he looked into her cool eyes, he couldn’t help but wonder if she thought that he might want to use the gun on himself. 

He undid his shoulder holster and slid it across her desk. “Is that everything?”

“Yes, for now.” She placed the weapon inside one of her drawers. “Now go home and get some rest, Carlton. I’ll see you on Monday.”

A minute later and he was marching back to his car, fists clenched at his side. He was suddenly grateful for the irritation that he felt over the entire exchange. It washed away the pain radiating out from his stomach, and for the moment, he felt ready to take on even the most murderous, despotic queen in any world.


	8. Chapter 8

Lassiter made his way down the steps in front of the castle, looking down as he tried to adjust the lacing on the front of his doublet. 

He was not in the least surprised to find Spencer not back in Santa Barbara but rather waiting at the bottom of the stairs. “Hey, is it okay if I come along today?”

Lassiter paused halfway off the last step, eyeing him suspiciously. “Since when do you ask my permission to do anything?”

Shawn shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “Since Roberta told me to.”

Lassiter continued to stare at him, trying to figure out whatever angle Shawn was playing, before finally walking on.

“I’m taking that as not a ‘no,’” Spencer called after him. 

Lassiter found Gareth at the posts in the front courtyard, putting the bridle on his horse. The henchman looked over at him from across the horse’s head. “You ready for this?”

“Absolutely,” Lassiter said.

The henchman gave him an approving nod and reached up to pull a sheathed sword from where it was looped around the saddle horn. “Here. This is yours now. I had it sharpened this morning.”

It was the same sword that Roberta had given him the day of the tournament. Lassiter buckled it around his waste, unable to keep from grinning. “Do I get to name it?”

“I named mine after the men I killed with it, but it takes half an hour to recite now.”

“Okay, never mind.”

Gareth took a step closer to speak in a low voice. “Watch your back while we’re over there. Something’s off here, and I don’t like it.”

Lassiter frowned over at Gareth. “You think Galavant’s setting us up?”

“That poncy, pretty boy? He doesn’t have it in him.” He hooked the curb chain around the back of the bit. “I just don’t like not knowing what we’re dealing with. All this magic stuff. Give me a good old fashioned murder any day of the week.”

“Tell me about it,” Lassiter said, resting his arm against the pommel of his sword. 

The clip clop of hooves announced Shawn’s presence as he rode around the side of the castle on a bay gelding. “Onward! To the forbidden zone!” He pointed dramatically out the castle gates. 

Lassiter felt a flicker of amusement at that but hid it behind a scowl. He reminded himself that Shawn was his responsibility, which meant that keeping him from getting killed on a whim by Madalena was now on his shoulders. 

The horse spun in a circle as Shawn tried to pull it to a stop. “I shall call thee…Kevin. Hey, Lassie, want to ride with me and Kevin?”

“I would rather crawl the entire way,” Lassiter replied.

Roberta entered the courtyard then, leading two more horses by the reins. She handed the large gray one with the shaggy mane off to Lassiter. “This is Sully. She’s a plow horse, but I took her for a quick ride this morning and she’s good under saddle.”

Lassiter held his palm beneath the horse’s nose, feeling the warm breath on his fingers. He wondered morosely if he was even allowed to ride a horse while on his new medication.

Roberta pulled her bay stallion around to the side and held Sully’s head so Lassiter could mount up. He was grateful for the barrier between Shawn and Gareth and his own clumsy attempt to climb into the saddle. Between his relative inexperience with horseback riding, tight pants, and slight sluggishness caused by the painkillers, it was no easy feat. 

He caught himself watching Roberta as she swung up into the saddle with the ease of years of practice and turned Sully away towards the front gates.

They fell into place as they left the castle grounds. Gareth took the lead with his warhorse. Shawn fell in behind him, weaving all over the road as his reins got tangled. Roberta came next. Then Lassiter and Sully. 

Lassiter was at first worried that they would be running the entire way—being jostled for several hours straight would be torture—but it quickly became apparent that Sully’s top speed could generously be called an amble. She plodded along, her head lowered, and Lassiter was grateful for the smooth rocking of her steps. “I’m tired too,” he told her, petting a hand down her mane.

They had just passed the nearby village when Roberta pulled back so she was walking alongside him. “I suppose you’re wondering why Shawn’s still here.”

“Not really. I once saw him talk his way into officiating a gangster’s wedding. It’s not exactly a shock that he found a way to stick around.” 

“It doesn’t have much to do with Shawn actually. Wondrous Sal is gone. The neighbors said he disappeared in the middle of the night.”

Lassiter’s head snapped toward her. “He skipped town? Are you sure he had nothing to do with the robbery?”

“I didn’t think so. But now I’m not so sure.”

Lassiter stared unseeing at his reins, mentally adding questioning medieval villagers about a wizard’s disappearance to his to do list. He wished fiercely that traffic and security cameras were a thing there.

Roberta gave Shawn’s figure a rueful look. “And now we’ll have to find another enchanted mirror that can send him home.”

She rubbed at her eyes, and Lassiter frowned to see the dark circles beneath them. Him barging into her room and collapsing in her bed the night before probably hadn’t helped her get much sleep. 

She was so strong, he thought with a wave of longing and sadness. She deserved more than a convoluted robbery case with only a fraudulent psychic, sociopathic henchman, and dying detective to help her. 

“Hey, maybe the mirror in Madalena’s room will still be open, and we can just shove Shawn through,” he said, earning an amused chuckle from Roberta. “Don’t worry about Spencer on this trip. I’ll make sure he doesn’t get into any trouble.”

“He’s not your responsibility, you know.”

“Of course he is. I’m responsible for everything that happens on my cases.”

“You don’t have to be while you’re here. You have me to help you.” She gave him a smile full of companionship and trust.

He felt that strange bubbling again in his chest, but it shrunk down to a cold pit in his stomach this time. He wanted so badly to tell her, to grasp whatever comfort she could give in the face of this unknowable terror. But it would be the most selfish thing he could think of. What could he possibly offer her? Six months of sickness and hospitals before he left her alone again.

“Roberta,” he said quickly, forcing the words out. “This case has to be our last together. When it’s over, it’s best if I go back to work and you go back to your own life.”

She blinked at him in surprise. “I thought you wanted to keep coming over?”

“It’s not a good idea. I’m married to my work. Anything else is a distraction that I don’t need.”

Roberta leaned over to pull back on his reins, bringing Sully to a stop. “Why does it have to be a distraction? There’s no obligation or expectation here, Carlton. It can be as simple as me enjoying your company as I thought you did mine.”

Lassiter turned his head away to examine the road, unable to keep talking if he was looking at her. “I’m sorry. This has been a fantasy. But it’s got to come to an end.”

She was silent for a long moment before responding softly, “All right. If that’s how you feel, Carlton.” 

She spurred her horse forward. Sully actually gave an effort at trotting after her, but Lassiter held her back. Far better to let Roberta go than to tie her to his fate.

***

In retrospect, Roberta should have realized that Madalena’s birthday part was going to be just as fraught as the rest of her day. She had been hoping for a huge, raucous party where she and Carlton could slip out to the crime scene without being noticed. But a few feet into the throne room, it became apparent that Madalena’s birthday was a more intimate affair. There weren’t more than a dozen people in attendance, all of them elegantly dressed.

Madalena sat on her throne at the front of the room, chatting languidly with a few nobles. Her dark hair fell over her shoulders in shining waves, and her gown had been dyed a rare shade of royal purple. 

Roberta soothed a hand down the front of her own gown, suddenly very grateful that she had thought to ask Gwen for her advice on what to wear. Granted, Roberta’s chief hope at the time had been catching Carlton’s eye, but that didn’t really matter anymore. 

She glanced over at Carlton now and found him staring at her. His eyes widened when he noticed that she had noticed his attention, but before he could look away, a hand appeared from the alcove that they were just passing. It grabbed Carlton by the arm and pulled him out of sight.

Roberta leapt after him, hand on her sword. 

She charged around the corner only to find Carlton scowling at Sir Galavant. “You could have just walked over to me.”

“I was trying to be discreet.” Galavant noticed Roberta standing at the entrance to the alcove with half-drawn sword. “Hello, Roberta. Good to see you again.”

Shawn and Gareth barreled into the room then, nearly knocking her over. Roberta gestured for them to stay back near the entryway as she stepped forward. She saw Shawn making to follow her, but Gareth’s hand locked around his arm to hold him place. 

Galavant starting speaking in a low voice as Roberta approached. “So I was hoping that you could keep this investigating the robbery thing just between us. Madalena thinks that I’m handling it, and I wouldn’t want her to think that I’m shirking my duties.”

“Fine by me,” Carlton said. “Can you take us to see the room now?”

“So here’s the thing. I haven’t actually been able to get the key yet.” At Carlton’s look, he continued belligerently, “I’d like to see you plan a fancy birthday party for a very demanding woman while trying to stop a peasant uprising in the south.”

Roberta decided to step in then. “How are we supposed to get inside the room?”

“I can get the key during dinner. Then when we start opening presents, I’ll need to duck out to grab Madalena’s gift, and there will be enough going on that you can sneak away as well.”

“Galavant!” A commanding voice rang out from the throne room behind them.

Galavant cast a forced cheerful look at the doorway. “I’m being summoned. I’ll meet you outside her bedroom. Down the side hallway from the throne room, first door you come to at the top of the stairs.”

“Thank you,” Roberta murmured to him as he strode out.

Gareth moved out of the way so Galavant could pass and then moved up to join Carlton and her. “I don’t like it.”

Roberta, in the middle of what was turning out to be a very frustrating day, frowned at him. “You never like anything.”

“No, he’s right,” Carlton said, crossing his arms. “We’re supposed to just trust him to somehow get this key?”

“We don’t have a choice,” Roberta said. “We wouldn’t have gotten inside the castle if it weren’t for Galavant’s invitation, and I won’t throw him into harm’s way by alerting Madalena of our real purpose here.”

“I take it none of us knows anything about picking locks?” Shawn asked. When no one responded in the affirmative, he grinned. “What about some light pickpocketing? Not that I was checking too closely or anything, but there don’t seem to be many pockets on these dresses. I’m sensing that she has them hanging from a belt on her waist.”

Gareth smiled crookedly. “One of us could try and get close to her. Madalena does have a certain reputation.”

Roberta shook her head at him fiercely, but Carlton was already asking, “What sort of reputation?”

“She’s slept with every man in a five-mile radius,” Gareth said, sounding faintly admiring. 

“She’s cheating on Galavant?!” Shawn said just as Roberta ordered, “No one is going to seduce Madalena,” and Carlton responded, “I can handle it.”

Roberta whirled to face him, fury rising in her chest. The fact that he looked highly uncertain at the prospect did little to appease her anger. “I am not going to let her treat you like a piece of meat. I forbid it.”

“It doesn’t matter, Roberta,” he said, as if his virtue meant nothing. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure we succeed here.”

Roberta didn’t believe for a second that he would take it that far, but it was shocking to hear how little he thought of his own self-worth. She tried to remind herself that Carlton wasn’t hers to protect, that he wasn’t her consort or even her friend now it seemed. But she didn’t care about any of it in that moment. If Madalena touched him, she would kill her. 

Shawn darted around to stop Carlton from marching out of the alcove. “Hey, Lassie, maybe you should let me flirt with the evil queen. Judging from past experience and this exchange here, you’re not the most charming with the ladies.”

Carlton turned to glare down at Shawn, expression murderous, and Roberta took advantage of the break in his attention to take a step back so that she was blocking the doorway. “You are all guests in my home. It’s my life at stake if we fail here. And I’m saying that none of you is going near Madalena while I’m still alive. We’re going to trust that Galavant can get the key. Do I make myself clear?”

She stared them all down, picturing herself talking to other knights under her charge before a skirmish. All three nodded, although Carlton still looked mutinous. 

Giving them all a final firm look, Roberta turned on her heel and left the alcove.

She was more than ready to avoid Carlton for the rest of the night, but of course he was seated across from her at dinner. Roberta’s irritation turned to concern as she covertly watched him from behind her hair. The food was rich and hot, and while he did a good job of pretending that he was eating—casually raising the fork as if about to take a bite and then seeming to get distracted by the conversation further down the table or covering up the meat with some of the lettuce—she only saw him swallow a few pieces of bread the entire night. 

Well, maybe he was just nervous. Roberta’s own throat seemed to get tighter as the dinner dragged on. The table was near the windows across the throne room, and it seemed like they would have to walk across an open battlefield to reach the side hall.

All too soon a herald entered and announced that it was time to present their gifts to her royal majesty and could they all please form a line? 

Roberta leaned back in her chair to nod at Gareth and Shawn. Gareth, much to his consternation, had been conscripted into helping serve dinner. Both he and Shawn were disguised as servants in hopes of keeping them from coming under too much scrutiny. Gareth swore that Madalena hadn’t seen him when she had come to the Sunday roast, but Roberta was worried that he was too recognizable as the von Falconburg’s henchman. 

Shawn came up beside her to hand off their gift of a fine bridle and bit that Roberta had dug out of an old chest in her parent’s room and polished until it shone. “You guys ready to do this?”

Roberta shook her head, glancing over at the hallway all the way across the room. The fifteen feet of empty floor looked like a wasteland. “There’s no way we’ll make it out of here without being noticed.”

Carlton murmured out of the corner of his mouth, “We need a distraction.”

“My time to shine,” Shawn said back, before plastering a wide grin on his face and stepping forward to walk down the line of guests. “Your most royal majesty, we have come from the exotic land of Santa Barbara to bring you the rarest of gifts.” As he spoke in a newly adopted twanging accent, he reached into his pocket to pull out a set of keys. Hanging from the ring was what looked like a blue toy sword. He pressed a button on its side and it lit up and made a humming noise. “Everyone! Gather around and witness the powers of the lightsaber!” 

It seemed Shawn’s magical crowd-stealing abilities still worked, because the nobles and royals circled around Madalena’s throne, gasping and murmuring over the gift.

Carlton grabbed Roberta’s hand, then almost immediately dropped it. “Come on.”

They found Galavant waiting by the first door at the top of the stairs as promised. He was holding a black and white piglet with a bow around its neck. “Okay, you probably have like fifteen minutes depending on how many items of clothing she gets. Please try to make it fast.”

“We will,” Roberta promised, then stepped into the room as Galavant held the door open. 

“I’m leaving the door locked from the outside. If you could let me know if you find any clues, preferably ones that will take me right to the thief, then that would be great.” He gave them both a dashing smile and strode away down the hall.

Roberta murmured her thanks to his back as she swung the door closed. 

Carlton was already searching the room, his gaze utterly focused. He reminded her so much of a hunting dog on the prowl that Roberta had to turn away to hide her smile. 

Madalena’s bedroom was just as luxurious as expected. Lavish fabrics, gilded accents, it was amazing that the armor hadn’t stripped the place bare. Roberta wandered over to examine a gorgeous painted vase near the fireplace. 

“I think I found how the armor got in,” Carlton called from the small room around the corner.

Roberta followed after him and nearly gasped aloud. Madalena’s dressing room had no less than eight mirrors, each with a beautifully engraved frame, standing in two rows down either side of the room. The purpose of the set up was likely so that she could see herself at every angle as she walked, but Roberta thought it a terrible waste of space. 

Glinting from three reflections caught her attention, and Roberta turned towards the dressing table. An array of shining jewelry lay in three wooden chests on the top. 

Carlton came up beside her and began digging through the one of the right. He smiled triumphantly as he lifted a gold earring up. “This is the earring I found inside the armor! I’m positive.”

Roberta nodded distractedly, more interested in the silver necklace with sapphires in the next box. Reaching into her sleeve, she pulled out one of the drawings that Gwen had made of the stolen goods. The cut and placement of the gems matched exactly.

“Well…this is…not good,” she said, dropping the parchment down to her side. 

This was so much worse than the thief being a crazed wizard or uppity lord. Before she had only suspected that she wasn’t going to make it out of this alive, but now she was sure of it.

Carlton let out a long breath, wrapping one arm around his middle. “Okay, okay, we need to think about what we’re going to do next.” 

Roberta was more inclined to just start stuffing as many stolen pieces as they could into their clothing and make a break for it. She reached out a hand for the silver sapphire necklace but froze upon hearing the distinct sound of an armored foot stepping onto flagstones. 

She turned around slowly and saw a white knight climbing haltingly out of the mirror closest to the door. Its elbows scraped up against the frame, and it jerked forward as it tried to free itself, sending the mirror rocking on its feet. 

Roberta and Carlton looked at each other as if to confirm that they weren’t losing their minds. Then they both darted behind a mirror off to the side where they were at least partially out of the thing’s sight.

Roberta watched with impotent fury as this new suit of armor, the silver metal polished so that it was almost white, finally managed to stumble forward into the room, where it then clanked over to the table and proceeded to dump all three chests down its helmet. 

“This is just typical,” Carlton grumbled under his breath.

“Sshh,” Roberta whispered as the armor finished taking its fill. It paused as if sniffing the air and spun jerkily in a circle. It stopped when it was directly facing their mirror and marched forward.

Roberta’s hand gripped the hilt of her sword so tightly that her fingers ached. She was all too aware that there were no convenient spinning blades around this time. She tried hard not to think about that flailing black mouth as it pushed itself near to her face. 

The white armor paused in front of their mirror, and neither of them dared breathe. For a moment, Roberta thought that it would step through and go away. But a hand wrapped around the back of the frame, and then it was haltingly pushing the mirror aside.

Carlton’s hand flew forward, and at first Roberta thought he had actually tried to punch the breastplate, but instead he held out the golden earring. “Here. Take it.”

The armor took the offering without hesitation and downed it. Then it held out its palm. 

“Seriously?” Carlton said.

Roberta reached for her purse. She didn’t own any jewelry; the only things she had on her besides the drawings were a few copper sovereigns and the valet ticket for her horse. She watched with trepidation as they all disappeared into the helmet. Hopefully the stable would remember her and let her get Fire back. 

Having finished mugging them, the armor clanked forward towards the first mirror. The surface rippled as it stepped inside, and it disappeared into the glass.

Roberta didn’t hesitate. She charged forward after the armor, ignoring Carlton’s cry of “Roberta! Wait!”

But just as hers was to Shawn, this mirror was apparently closed to her as well. She had her arm up to protect herself, and her forearm smashed into the glass, sending the entire frame to the floor. The face shattered with a loud cracking noise. 

As Roberta stared down at the many small reflections of the room’s ceiling, Carlton hurried over to her. “Are you all right? Did it cut you?” His hands hovered over her shoulders as if afraid he might hurt her.

“I’m fine,” Roberta managed. “Can you check if it left any jewelry?”

He nodded, and she heard the rasp of wood as he picked up a chest. Roberta went to each mirror, pressing her fingers against the glass, but if any of them were still enchanted, they would not work for her.

Carlton clenched a hand around the lid of the last chest. “Dammit.”

The handle to the bedroom turned then, and Madalena’s voice came muffled through wood and stone. “Someone find that worthless mound of flesh known as my handmaiden. These shoes aren’t working for me.”

Roberta spun around in a circle in a near panic. The mirrors were too narrow for them to hide behind. They hadn’t even fooled a stupid suit of armor. And there was no way that Carlton could fit into one of the chests of clothing, even if they turned out to be empty.

She turned around to look at Carlton, only for him to pull her to him and bring his mouth down on hers. Roberta made a muffled sound of surprise and drew back. “Okay, kind of sending me mixed signals here.”

“Sorry,” he responded, before leaning down to kiss her again.

Roberta, unsure of what he was thinking but only knowing that she trusted him, let herself be kissed, bringing her hands up to grasp his shoulders. Carlton wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer, which was just as well because her knees were threatening to buckle. Lord, but she was susceptible to this man.

As far as kisses went, it was both heady and a little awkward. Roberta was too conscious of the evil queen in the adjacent room to really get into it, and Carlton seemed to have lost all sense of himself entirely. He was kissing her desperately, as if pouring himself out, and Roberta struggled to keep up with him.

A loud clearing of a throat broke them apart, and there was Madalena, standing in the middle of the room with crossed arms. She glared at them and raised an eyebrow. 

“Oh, sorry. We were just trying to grab a few minutes alone,” Carlton said, voice slightly dazed. “The door to this guest bedroom was open, and we thought—”

Madalena looked down at the broken mirror then over at the empty jewelry chests with a jutted jaw. She turned on her heel and headed for the door. “Guards!”

****

This day certainly couldn’t get any worse, Lassiter thought rebelliously as his hands were shackled in front of him and he was relieved of both of his spare guns. Their evidence was gone, they had another suit of armor running around, and now they were going to be executed for a crime they hadn’t committed.

“The old ‘we were in this place we aren’t supposed to be in because we were there to make out’ cliche?” Roberta asked as she was marched out into the hallway by a guard. “Really?”

“It was the only thing I could think of,” Lassiter said, face heating. It was more the truth than she knew. She had changed into a green dress for dinner that had turned her hair to fire, and he could barely keep his eyes off of her. Then, off-balance and confused after being pressed up next to her while hiding behind the mirror, he’d had a rush of blood to the head and decided on the most cliche solution he could think of to save them from Madalena. 

Roberta sighed and looked down at her bound hands. “It was a good try.”

Lassiter wondered if she was talking about the clumsy attempt to save their lives or the kiss itself. “Sorry…about that. It’s…it’s been a long time and—”

“Would you two shut up?” Madalena snapped from in front of the two guards marching them down the stairs. “Or the first thing I’m going to do is cut both your tongues out.”

Lassiter had expected them to be dragged off to the throne room for interrogation and then to the dungeon for torture, but instead they were taken out to a courtyard where a very large hangman’s gallows lay waiting. Lassiter’s heart began racing so fast it felt like it was fluttering, and he stumbled as he was shoved forward by a guard.

Madalena stood waiting by the stairs, examining a nail. “Kill them both.”

“Please, your majesty,” Roberta cried as a guard hauled her forward. “We didn’t steal from you, I swear it.”

“I would tell you to send Prudence and Charity my regards, but well, you’ll be dead, won’t you?”

Lassiter tried to shoulder free of the man forcing him forwards, but his arm didn’t even make a dent in his metal breastplate.

Roberta, however, managed to wrench her hands free when she was at the top of the stairs to the gallows and turned back towards the queen. “A trial by combat. I request a trial by combat for my consort’s life.”

A murmur of anticipation went through the assembled party guests. The guards looked at each other with interest, although the executioner gave a disappointed sigh. 

Madalena looked up from her nails with a calculating expression. “I guess this party could use some entertainment. Take them to the arena, then.” She waved a hand at the guards before giving a smile to Galavant, who was sulking near the back wall. “Gal, darling, I name you as my champion.”

The knight’s head rose, and Lassiter felt relief rise in his chest. Now would be a great time for him to man up and come to their aid. But Galavant just gave his queen an uncomfortable smile in return. “Sure. Whatever you say.”

And casting the flabbergasted Lassiter an apologetic look, he slunk out of the courtyard. 

Lassiter finally managed to force himself free of his captor as the entire birthday party headed out to a wooden arena in a field. He hurried up beside Roberta. “This trial by combat better not mean what I think it means.”

She was staring ahead at the arena with determination. “I am dead no matter what happens. But this way, you at least might go free.”

“What? Like hell!” Lassiter said, grabbing her arm with his bound hands. “I’m not letting you do this. Let me be the one to fight.”

“It’s my right as a knight and lady to protect my consort.” She finally looked at him then, and there were tears in her eyes. “You wanted to go home when this was all over, Carlton. I swear that you will.”

Lassiter felt his stomach churn and for a moment thought that he might be sick. “I don’t want this. I’m not going to let this happen.”

She didn’t reply as they entered into the arena to stand at the sidelines. 

Lassiter was so busy looking for escape routes or planning a way that he could somehow strangle Galavant with his chains before he could touch Roberta, that he almost missed it when Shawn and Gareth sidled up behind him in the crowd. “I thought I told you to get out if there was trouble.”

“That was before the town criers started announcing your execution,” Shawn shot back. 

Gareth leaned over to murmur to Roberta, “Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t think even I could do any better than an even draw with Galavant.”

Roberta nodded, holding out her hands to be unshackled and drawing her sword. “Take care of my castle, Gareth.” Her gaze flicked over to Lassiter’s as if it pained her. “Don’t let him interfere. Get him out of here when it’s over.”

Lassiter tried to block her as she made her way to the center of the arena, but Gareth pulled him away. He struggled against the henchman. “Let go! What the hell are you doing just standing here?! We’ve got to help her. I’m dying anyway!”

Shawn started forward at that but halted at Gareth’s warning look. The henchman turned to Lassiter. “Come on, mate, don’t make this difficult. Let your lady fight for you.”

Lassiter only snarled at him wordlessly as Roberta took her place across from Galavant. 

Madalena entered the lavishly decorated box near the top of the arena walls and stood at the railing. Her dark eyes examined Lassiter for a moment before turning to Roberta. “You know, it is touching to see a knight defending her consort. In honor of your noble sacrifice, I promise not to send your boy toy over there to the executioner. But he’ll joining me in my bedchamber tonight.”

Her eyes were sultry and terrifying as her gaze returned to Lassiter, and he felt as if icy claws had gripped him about the spine. Roberta’s gaze went hard and furious, and her grip tightened on the hilt of her sword.

When she saw the suspicious look Galavant was shooting up at the box, Madalena gave him a smile. “To discuss how my jewelry went missing, of course.” She dropped down into her cushioned chair. “Begin.”

As Roberta dodged out of the way of a brutally fast blow from Galavant’s sword, Lassiter swung his fist at Gareth’s jaw. It connected solidly, but the henchman barely even rocked back. Instead he pressed his own fist lightly into Lassiter’s gut, doubling the detective over. Fighting against the blackness creeping across his vision, Lassiter managed to gasp out, “You bastard.”

The crowd cheered as Roberta and Galavant’s blades met with a resounding clang of metal. Roberta was fast, quick on her feet, and skilled with the sword, but it was quickly becoming obvious that Galavant was in an entirely different realm. While Roberta was fighting with everything she had, the other knight was barely paying attention. His gaze kept turning over to Lassiter and then up to Madalena.

Finally, Galavant’s blade caught Roberta’s forearm, slicing into the skin as it knocked her sword out of her grasp. A hoarse cry of helpless anger and fear escaped Lassiter as she dropped to her knees before Galavant, hands at her sides. 

Lassiter heard himself praying mindlessly “please, please, please,” as he tried to wrench himself free from Gareth’s grasp.

Galavant stared down at her, blade wavering just before her chest. 

In that utterly still moment, Shawn darted forward onto the sand to skid to a halt in front of the knight. “Come on, man,” he said to Galavant, arms thrown wide. “You’re really going to kill the poor woman who’s just trying to protect her boyfriend? And after she came here to do you a favor in the first place!”

Galavant’s brow furrowed, and Madalena leaned forward in her chair. “What fun. Two for the price of one. Kill them both, please, Gal.”

Shawn flung a finger out to point at her. “And all for a chick who’s like, super evil. I thought you were supposed to be this dragon slaying hero? What are you even doing with her?”

Galavant’s eyes flickered over the exhausted Roberta and Shawn’s disapproving stare. He flashed a pleading smile up at Madalena. “So here’s the thing, Maddie. I did sort of invite them here to help me solve that other robbery.”

“You idiot! You just had to go and invite Prudence and Charity’s knight to dig around my bedroom, alone, after I suspected them of stealing from me in the first place?!”

“How was I supposed to know that she was working for them?” Galavant exclaimed, shoving his sword down into the sand. “I’d never even heard of a Roberta Steingass before.”

“This is why I don’t let you in on any of my plans. You’re only good for two things. So get back to one of them and finish killing these prisoners.”

Galavant crossed his arms. “No. I forfeit.”

Madalena stared down at him for a moment before her brows lowered into a glare. “Then you’re of no use to me. Get out. All of you.”

“What? You’re breaking up with me?” Galavant said, bravado fading in an instant. “Just because I won’t murder someone for you?”

Madalena halted her stalk from the royal box. “And because you got me a pig for my birthday.”

“It’s a piglet! I thought you would think it was cute.”

The queen only rolled her eyes and stepped out of sight. 

Lassiter barely waited for a guard to unlock his cuffs before sprinting over to Roberta. He dropped to his knees in front of her, pulling her to him. “Oh my god, Roberta. Oh my god.”

She gave a convulsive sob and threw her arms around him. “I was so scared.”

Lassiter grasped her even tighter, wishing to envelope her within himself where no one could ever hurt her again. He suddenly remembered her arm and pulled back to look at the cut. He scrabbled at his shirt for a strip of cloth to bind the wound. He’d never wanted to kill someone so badly in his life. He was shaking with it.

Roberta winced as he tied the cloth tightly around her arm. “It’s not bad. It will mend.”

In the aftermath of terror and relief came abrupt anger, and Lassiter snapped at her, “Don’t you ever sacrifice yourself for me again. That was incredibly stupid and reckless.”

Roberta drew back as if slapped, hurt twisting her brow. “I’ll do whatever I have to to save your life.”

Lassiter felt like shaking her. That she would try and give up everything when he would be dead soon anyway, when he was just now realizing how much she meant to him… “I’m not worth you getting yourself killed.”

“Stop it.” She took his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. “You are worth everything to me.” She stared hard into his eyes for a long moment, as if imprinting the knowledge on him. Then she released him and pulled herself to her feet, looking down on him like a queen before a supplicant at her feet. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

Lassiter retrieved their weapons from a guard, and their ragtag group hurried over to the stables, where Roberta spent a fruitless twenty minutes arguing with the stable boy about getting her horse back without her valet ticket. 

In the end, they only got Sully and Shawn and Gareth’s horses returned to them. Roberta pulled herself up into Sully’s saddle, and Lassiter scowled as he clamored up behind her. With her bloody arm and battle-swept hair, she looked powerful and fierce, and he felt off-balance and uncertain of himself as he looped his arms about her waist. 

Galavant came flying out of a nearby door in the courtyard, having been shoved through by a guard. He turned around, arms held out at his sides in indignation. “Come on! I don’t even get my stuff back?!” 

The guard gave him a cruel smile. “Oh, yeah. The queen did say that you could have this.” He threw something at Galavant, and the knight barely managed to catch the black and white piglet as it crashed into his chest.

Madalena appeared at the balcony above. “Oh, Gal?”

Galavant looked up at her with heartbreaking hope. “Madalena?”

“You have an hour to get out of my kingdom. Then I let the hunting party and dogs have a little fun with anyone who isn’t over the border.” She turned her attention to Roberta. “Tell Prudence and Charity that this isn’t over.” Then she stalked back inside.

Galavant stared up at the empty balcony for a moment, making incoherent sounds of confusion and shock. 

Shawn jogged over and patted Galavant on the arm. “Sorry, about the breakup, dude. But I really think this is going to be good for you.” He shoved at Galavant’s back until he got the knight over to the horse and up into the saddle, the piglet tucked under one arm. Then he mounted up in front, nearly kicking Galavant in the face with one foot. 

“Tally-ho!” he said, and then flapped Kevin’s reins. The horse shot forward so fast it nearly sent both men flying off, and they disappeared out the gate. 

Gareth gave their retreating figures a look of long-suffering irritation before following at a gallop. 

Roberta sighed. “I seem to be collecting people lately.” 

She then dug her heels into Sully’s side, and Lassiter’s earlier assessment that the plow horse could barely plod along was shortly corrected. It took her a bit to get going, but once she did, it was like riding a freight train. Each stride seem to take up the length of a football field, and it wasn’t long before Madalena’s castle vanished into the trees.


	9. Chapter 9

Lassiter gave up on trying to sleep at around midnight and instead took to pacing across his living room floor, arm wrapped around his abdomen.

He’d returned home the previous night in some pain as a result of Gareth’s method of subduing him followed by several hours being jolted about on horseback, after which he’d taken a double dose of pain medication and slept until midmorning. 

He’d spent the day researching the laws for prosecuting royalty back in medieval times but wasn’t sure how much use it would be. It was impossible for him to ignore the fact that Madalena had likely had a direct hand in Trent Martin’s death, but how did one go about punishing a person who was the law in their own land? At any rate, it have given him an excuse to avoid Roberta for the day.

His emotions still swung wildly between confusion and fury that she had nearly died for him. And he was even more furious with himself for not just telling her about the cancer and going out there to duel to the death himself. He was starting to wonder if it wasn’t better if he just got out of her life before he got her killed. 

His mind once again turned over the words she’d said as they marched out to the stadium. She had called him her consort. He’d gotten distracted from his medieval law search for a good half hour after looking up the history of the word. Husband or companion. It was everything he’d ever wanted. He clenched his fists and paced faster. 

He turned on his heel back around his couch and nearly stumbled when he heard a very slurred voice call out, “Hey…Carl. Psst! Hey!”

Lassiter spun around towards the mirror, and there was Galavant on the other side, leaning drunkenly up against Gareth and waving a mostly empty bottle at him. 

“Look! He sees us! All three of him,” Galavant said in a loud whisper as he squinted down the hallway. “This is such a weird door.”

Lassiter went to the mirror. “What are you two doing?” he said in mild exasperation. He was still angry at Gareth for using his weakness against him while Roberta nearly died, but he could respect the henchman’s obedience to orders. 

“Going to the pub,” Gareth said, shouldering Galavant off of him. “Want to come?”

And despite the hundred reasons why it was a bad idea—work the next day; possibly running into Roberta on the way out; alcohol definitely not being on the list his doctor had given him—suddenly going out and getting absolutely wasted and forgetting that he was dying seemed like a great plan.

They headed down the stairs from Roberta’s tower, Lassiter keeping a close eye on Galavant in case he fell and bashed his head in. “I see he started without us.”

“Yep, I found him like this in the yard with the pigs.”

“That would explain the smell,” Lassiter said, grimacing. He actually did feel sort of bad for the knight though. He had stepped in and saved them in the end. And getting dumped was always rough, no matter how evil the ex-girlfriend.

Galavant swung around the corner into the main hall and nearly took out Shawn, who was approaching from the other side. “Oh, look, it’s that little man from the horse. Hello.”

Shawn’s nose wrinkled. “Oh, look, it’s an entire distillery and barnyard disguised as a knight.” He looked over at Lassiter and Gareth. “Are you guys going somewhere?”

“Just the pub. It’s nothing to do with the case, Shawn,” Lassiter said tiredly. 

Shawn shoved his hands into the pockets of his oversized trousers. “Can I come?”

Lassiter blinked at that. Not only because Shawn was actually asking instead of just barging his way in, but because he was looking at Gareth for the answer. 

Gareth just turned to look at Lassiter. Lassiter eyed him back in confusion for a moment before realizing that the henchman was leaving the choice up to him. 

Lassiter’s first instinct was to send Shawn packing, mostly to see if it would actually work. But with the three of them towering over Shawn from their six feet of height, Lassiter suddenly felt like the jock in a high school movie about to tell the underdog freshman to get lost. 

With Roberta’s words about his antagonist-ness echoing in his mind, he sighed and said with his usual surliness, “Yeah, all right. It’s not like I could stop you anyway.”

Shawn grinned and fell into step beside them as they made their way to the village.

Soon enough they were sliding around a rough wooden table in the back of the Armored Swan, and Galavant bought the first round. 

Lassiter leaned back against the wall, snorting into his goblet as he listened to Gareth and Galavant try to one up each other with war stories. It occurred to him that it had been years since he’d had a night of just hanging out with other men. For so long he’d thought all he’d needed was his work. But now that he finally realized what he wanted, it was all going to be taken away from him. 

Stomach clenching, Lassiter downed his drink.

Several pitchers and a keg later, and he was definitely feeling more relaxed about the whole dying situation. Sure, the terror was still thrumming distantly in the back of his mind, but he didn’t really care at the moment. 

The others had slowed down as well. After Gareth’s attempt at teaching Shawn how to throw an axe had only ended up with a split table and a nearly beheaded squire, they had returned to the table, each man lost in their own thoughts. 

Staring down into his half-empty goblet, Lassiter asked aloud, “If you only had a week to live, what would you do?”

Galavant raised his head from where it was pillowed on his crossed arms. “I’d go tell Madalena exactly what I thought of her. That I never should have wasted three years of my life with her. And that…” He trailed off to take another swig of his drink, and the rest of them rolled their eyes. He’d been swinging wildly between telling them all how glad he was that it was over and waxing poetic about how beautiful and sweet Madalena was.

Gareth spoke next. “I’d go and find whatever bastard was going to kill me in a week and kill him first with my bare hands.”

Not exactly helpful in his situation. Lassiter turned to Shawn, “Spencer?”

“I’d be sitting on a beach somewhere with Gus drinking a drink with a little umbrella in it.”

They all looked at Lassiter now, and he dropped his head back against the wall. The first few answers that came to mind all involved alternate endings to that night he had accidentally spent in Roberta’s bed, and to save himself from blurting that out, he shrugged and said, “They’re these kids. Breaking things at my house in the middle of the night. I’d teach them a lesson.”

Gareth’s scarred features stretched into a grin. “Well, what are we waiting for then? I was thinking of getting into a fight with that geezer over there to end the evening, but this is much better.”

“No, wait, Gareth, we can’t—”

But despite his protests, Lassiter soon found himself crouched in the bushes on his front lawn at two am, his sword resting in front of him. “This is such a bad idea,” he muttered to himself. 

Shawn lay on his front beside him, swiping dirt on his cheekbones like Rambo. “Lassie, hey, put some of this on. It’s camouflage.”

He shoved a handful into Lassiter’s face, and Lassiter pushed it away. “I’d rather wear lipstick to work.”

“That I’d like to see,” Shawn said, swiping his hands on his shirt front. “Are these kids bugging you because of that surprise party Jules threw you?”

Lassiter nodded, but without rancor. “I think I arrested the brother of one of them for drug dealing back in the day.”

“Why don’t you just move?”

“Because I don’t want to,” Lassiter snapped. He’d asked himself the same question often enough and didn’t need to be reminded. But no matter how illogical it was, this was his home. “Do you know what apartments are going for these days? It’s obscene.”

“Still seems better than having to worry about being shivved every time you go outside.”

“Wait until they see Gareth,” Lassiter said, grinning into the darkness. “I can’t believe he came through the mirror this time.” He fell over onto his side as he turned to eye Shawn. “Wait a minute. Spencer, how’d you get through the mirror?”

“Magic?” Shawn replied with a guilty smile. When Lassiter glared at him, he sighed. “Okay, so I faked that it wouldn’t let me through the other day.”

“What?!” 

“Well, I really wanted to help out with the case. You can’t just keep an entire medieval world in your hallway to yourself.”

“Why? Why do always do this?” Lassiter exclaimed, dropping his sword to free up both hands for angry gesturing. “I can’t have two minutes alone and away from you. You have to follow me everywhere! Why?”

“I’m just trying to be your friend,” Shawn said quietly, shrugging.

Lassiter’s tirade came to an abrupt halt and he gaped at Spencer. “You already have a friend,” he finally said. 

“You do know that it’s possible to have more than one friend, Lassie?”

“But why me? We hate each other.”

“No, we don’t,” Shawn scoffed, waving a hand. ”This whole witty back and forth banter thing is just what we do. And well, I thought you were sitting at home alone all the time cleaning your eight guns or something. But then I found out that you have a knight girlfriend and the entire Middle Ages through a door in your living room.” 

Lassiter dropped his head down. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Dude, she fought a duel to the death for your honor. Pretty sure you just got legally married over there.”

Lassiter scowled down at the ground, fighting off the warmth spreading through his chest. 

When he didn’t respond, Shawn shifted slightly and asked, “So you sort of mentioned that you were dying yesterday.”

The warmth immediately shrunk down to an ice cold pit in his stomach. “Yeah,” he rasped. “It’s cancer.”

“Oh.” The silence was deafening. “Are you sure you should be out here and not like, resting or—”

“I’m fine,” Lassiter said fiercely. “I can pull my own weight, and I don’t need any help.”

Shawn started to respond, but Lassiter hissed at him to be quiet. A car was pulling up in front of his house. 

The door popped open, and a kid in a sweatshirt jumped out, can of spray paint in hand. He darted towards the garage as another one got out of the car and headed for the front door with a pocket knife in hand, to gouge another notch at the bottom, no doubt. 

Giving Lassiter a “we’re not done talking about this” look, Shawn hit the button on the remote control, turning on the security lights on the front of the house. Charged with adrenaline, Lassiter shot to his feet and ran forward, sword raised over his head.

The burgeoning artist and sculptor saw him coming and darted back towards the car with synchronized shouts of surprise, only for Gareth and Galavant to come roaring out of the bushes near the front of the house with drawn blades.

Gareth made a swipe at one perp when he tried to go for the car door, and Lassiter nearly bit through his tongue, but he missed by a good three feet, and the kid and his friend went screaming between him and Galavant and down the street. 

Gareth, laughing maniacally, followed them. Galavant tripped over his own feet and went down on the ground in a heap. Lassiter made it two steps in an attempt to stop Gareth before his stomach decided that it had been through enough for the evening. He collapsed to his knees, retching. It felt like hot shards of glass coming up, and he dug his fingers into the grass as tears stung his eyes. Shawn skidded to a stop and returned to his side, placing a hand on his back. 

So of course, a cop car pulled up in front of the house at that moment, siren echoing down the side of the street.

“Get…out…of here,” Lassiter managed between gagging, trying to shove Shawn away with a shaking hand.

“No way,” Shawn shot back. He then moaned, “Oh, no, we got Andrews.”

Lassiter felt like moaning too, and not just because it felt like he’d just lost three layers of stomach lining. Andrews was a by-the-book cop who was a stickler for protocol, and Lassiter normally liked working with him. But that also meant that it was unlikely that he could use his clout as head detective to get them out of this one. 

He regretted getting Office Franke reassigned now. Franke probably would have joined them in chasing the kids off.

He swiped a hand across his mouth and pulled himself to his feet as Andrews approached. “Detective Lassiter, do you want to tell me why we got several calls from your neighbors about prowlers in the bushes and then I find you out on your front lawn with a sword at two am?”

“LARPing?” Shawn said.  
“Shut up,” Lassiter hissed from the side of his mouth before responding, “I have no idea, Officer. You can move along. I’ll get things quieted down.”

“You are aware that disturbing the peace and public drunkenness are punishable by an overnight stay in the precinct lock up? No exceptions.”

“Seriously?” Shawn asked. “Can’t you let us off with a warning? We were about to go back inside.”

“Sorry, Mr. Spencer, no exceptions. The law is the law no matter if you’re psychic or the head detective.”

And so Lassiter then found himself crammed into the back of a police car with Spencer on one side and a barely conscious Galavant on the other. He could only hope that Gareth was smarter than the rest of them…and that he wouldn’t impale any of the kids if he caught them.

****

For the second time that week, Roberta was awoken from an unsettled sleep by knocking on her door. 

Grumbling to herself, she pulled on her robe and flung it open. She had a vague hope that it was a guilt-ridden Carlton there to beg forgiveness for his ingratitude, but instead she found Gareth on the other side of her door. She got one look at how heavily he was breathing and the twigs and leaves stuck in his armor and felt alarm shoot through her. “What’s happened?”

“Carlton, Shawn, and Galavant have been captured.”

Roberta ran for her armor. “By Madalena?”

“No. By men who ride about in these weird shiny, metal carriage things.”

Roberta froze midway between pulling her breeches on beneath her nightgown and turned to face him. “What?”

“So we were in Carlton’s world to take care of these invaders who were vandalizing his land—”

“Gareth, you went through the mirror? Wait, how did Shawn get over there?”

Gareth grinned. “That little berk tricked us. He’s probably been able to get through this whole time.”

Roberta shelved that realization for later as she ducked into the bathroom to finish changing. “All right, so then what?”

“Well, I ran off after the vandals, but I’d promised Carlton that I wouldn’t thrash any of them, so I turned back. And I just had time to see the three of them in the back of this metal beast as it rolls off.”

Roberta huffed out a sigh as she finished pulling on her shirt. The metal carriage sounded an awful lot like one of those prison cars that had caught her on her trip to Carlton’s world. Which meant that it was likely taking them to the place where he and Shawn worked. 

She had half a mind to leave them to whatever fate befell them there. But she was responsible for Galavant and Shawn now that they were under her roof, and Carlton as well, no matter how little he thought of it.

So, after ordering a belligerent Gareth to his room, she stepped down into Carlton’s hallway alone.

She had a devil of a time figuring out how to work the phone on the kitchen counter, but eventually a voice known as the “Operator” helped her call her own metal carriage, known as a cab. She then found a handful of the odd paper currency that she had used to pay the last cab in a drawer in Carlton’s bedroom. It felt odd to invade his quarters without his knowledge, but Roberta’s increasing worry drowned out her guilt.

Dawn was breaking over the hills in the distance when she finally made it to the police department. Shawn was just exiting the front doors, getting lectured by a man that she recognized from the hospital. “And why in the world are you dressed like an extra at the Renaissance fair, Shawn? What kind of conference was this?”

Shawn caught sight of Roberta as she headed for the doors. “Roberta! How did you get here?”

“A cab,” she said, voice almost breaking in relief upon seeing something familiar. She was really starting to hate Carlton’s world. “Where are Carlton and Galavant?”

“Galavant?” the other man muttered in confusion.

Shawn grimaced, swiping at his wrinkled clothes. “In the drunk tank. I will never get the smell out of my hair.” He paused for a moment, looking at her. “Roberta, did Lassiter tell you that he’s sick?”

Roberta, who had been halfway heading for the door, stopped, head tilted. “He hasn’t been eating lately.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice it before. We really need to go get him out of there. He’s been throwing up all night, and he looks pretty bad.” He spun back around to open the door for her. “Here, I can get you in. Just a second, Gus.”

Gus muttered something about “five in the freaking morning” and crossed his arms as they went inside.

As promised, Shawn was able to get them past the woman guarding the front and soon they were in the large main room. She recognized Carlton’s desk off to the side. 

“Drunk tank’s this way,” Shawn said as he headed down the walkway, but he stopped as his attention was caught by a large set of clear doors to the left. “Oh, crap. Looks like Andrews called the Chief.”

“That guy is the worst,” Gus agreed, stopping alongside him.

Roberta peered over their shoulders and felt her fists clench. Through the glass, she could see Carlton standing in front of a large desk, back straight as the woman behind it yelled at him.

Without even consciously realizing what she was doing, Roberta shouldered her way between Shawn and Gus and headed towards the double doors.

“No, wait, Roberta, that’s the Chief’s—” Shawn tried to catch her arm, but she was into the room beyond before he could stop her. 

Roberta placed herself between Carlton and the other woman, looking him over for injury. “Are you all right?” Shawn was correct in saying that he didn’t look well. His skin was gray, and his eyes, normally so vivid and sharp, were dull and glazed.

Carlton’s expression was one of weary relief. “What are you doing here?”

“Spencer, what the hell is this woman doing in my office?” The woman known as the Chief asked from her chair behind the desk.

“Sorry, Chief,” Shawn said, halfway in her door as if afraid to step further inside.

Roberta squared her shoulders as she turned to face the desk. She was duty-bound to obey Prudence and Charity, but this woman had no power over her. “You can ask me such questions directly. I’m a free person capable of answering you.” She took a step forward so she was further blocking Carlton from the woman’s gaze. “I’m here to take Carlton home with me. And Galavant.”

Carlton caught her wrist. “Roberta, it’s fine. Please—”

The Chief rose from her chair and turned her glare on Roberta. “He’s not going anywhere until he finishes explaining to me just what he was doing chasing teenagers around with a sword while dead drunk.”

Roberta shot Carlton a look over her shoulder at that, but she returned to attention to the Chief. “Is it really necessary to yell at him for it? And at five in the morning?”

“He’s my head detective, and I’ll yell at him whenever I want.”

“You say that like he’s not also human,” Roberta said, gesturing back at Carlton. “Look at him. He’s obviously not well. If you’re trying to teach him a lesson, do you really think he’s following it right now? Please just state your punishment and let him go home.” And if that punishment was death or imprisonment, then Roberta was fairly sure that she could fight their way out of there.

The Chief looked stricken for a moment before looking over Roberta’s shoulder to Carlton. “You can go. But we are not finished talking about this. I expect to see you at your desk bright and early tomorrow morning. Regardless of the hangover.”

“Yes, Chief.” 

“Good. Dismissed.”

Roberta turned on her heel and passed by Shawn, who was still standing halfway in the office door. “You said the drunk tank was this way?”

And so she soon had charge of a drunken Galavant and piled both him and her consort into the cab. 

Carlton sent her a guilty look from the other side of the snoring knight. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I did,” Roberta said, shoving at Galavant’s shoulder to keep him off of her. While she could at least be grateful that he wasn’t mad at her for defending him this time, it made her unbearably sad to hear his disbelief that someone would be willing to come to his defense. 

It took both of them to get Galavant out of the cab, into Carlton’s house, and through the mirror. Gwen squeaked in surprise as they nearly came tumbling onto the sitting room floor. She set down the breakfast tray and hurried over to help. “My lady?”

“Get him to a room, please, Gwen,” Roberta managed as she wrapped her other arm around the knight’s waist to keep him from collapsing onto Carlton. 

“Yes, my lady,” Gwen said and then walloped Galavant across the cheek.  
Roberta and Carlton both gaped at her, but it roused the knight from his stupor. “Madalena? You’ve come back?”

“Sorry, but no,” Gwen said, tugging him forward. “It’s time to go to bed now, my lord.”

“Right, okay.” Galavant waved sloppily back at Carlton. “That was a smashing good time, Carl.” 

“Yeah, right,” Carlton muttered back, but the corner of his mouth was tipped up.

Roberta waited until the door had closed behind them before whirling to face Carlton. Her angry tirade died in her throat. He looked exhausted, wavering on his feet. Worse, he had that same at attention look he’d had when being dressed down by the Chief. 

So instead of getting in a huge fight then and there, Roberta pointed to a chair. “Sit, please.”

Carlton sat, and Roberta slid the breakfast tray to him. “Eat.”

He eyed the contents dubiously for a moment before selecting the oatmeal and gingerly taking a bite. Roberta bit into an apple herself as she watched him. 

Once he had swallowed a few bites, she asked, “Why haven’t you been eating?”

Lassiter set the spoon down beside the bowl with a resigned sigh. “Shawn said something, didn’t he?” 

“Tell me. Please.”

And so he did. Roberta only made it halfway through his explanation before she came around to kneel beside his chair, wrapping her arms around him. Carlton shuddered at the touch before putting his own arms around her like a man drowning. 

Six months wasn’t enough time.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter owes a lot to ancient stories and legend and Stephen King, but if you've made it this far in this highly AU fic, then I think you can handle it. Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed! I'm so happy you're here.

The line moved forward a few paces, and Roberta inched ahead with them, trying hard to keep the anxious expression off of her face.

Carlton was casting the line of the sick and lame ahead of them a dubious look. A thin rain had begun to drizzle down, and he hunched over further into his cloak, scowling as the water dripped off the edge of his hood and onto his nose. It seemed the warm days of their late summer had finally ended.

It had taken a two-hour argument to get him to agree to come and see the oracle in the neighboring village. Roberta had never heard of this cancer he suffered from, but she knew it likely wouldn’t be cured by a few leechings and blood lettings. When she had heard that a traveling oracle was coming through a nearby village, she had leapt at the chance to heal her consort. 

A man a few feet in front of them started hacking wetly into a tattered cloth, and Carlton leaned over to murmur to her, “This is a waste of time.”

“Hush,” Roberta told him. “It doesn’t hurt anything to ask the oracle her advice. I’ve heard a great many stories about her powers.”

“Her powers of lying and deception probably.”

She huffed out a breath. “Why is magic still so difficult for you to believe? Holy friggin’ cow, you have an enchanted mirror in your own home!”

“There’s a big difference between using practically a regular door and going to a faith healer or whatever this chick is supposed to be. I’ve gone through this mystical powers routine every day at work for the past five years, and I know how these swindlers work.”

“Then at the very least we can ask her about the robbery.” That had been her winning hand in their latest argument. 

Carlton still didn’t look convinced, but he at least stopped his more audible grumbling, and soon they were stepping into the tent on the outskirts of the village. 

The interior was lit by a few candles, their light tinted orange from the fabric of the tent. There were two wooden chairs in the center of the floor. The only other furniture in the room was a bedroll, upon which knelt the oracle.

She was a middle-aged woman with long dark gray hair. Her clothes were simple and travel-worn. Her eyes, when she opened them to regard her two latest supplicants, were a dark green.

Roberta slipped into the farther chair. “Thank you for seeing us, oracle.”

“What do you know about thieving suits of armor?” Carlton asked, his tone bordering on sarcastic, as he sat down on the very edge of his own chair. His expression was indifferent, but his muscles were tense, as if preparing to flee the tent at any moment. 

Roberta shot him a warning look, but the oracle merely regarded him silently for a moment. She blinked then, her head tilting and brow furrowing. “You have a growth. Deep in the walls of your stomach. It’s eating you alive.”

Carlton blanched at her words, mouth parting.

Roberta’s own stomach clenched in horror at her words, but she leaned forward to ask with urgency. “Can you heal him?”

The oracle’s eyes continued to bore into Carlton. “You must bathe in the waters of Noth. Only then will you be healed.”

“Let me guess,” Carlton said, crossing his arms. “There’s a steep entry fee, and you request a small donation to show us the way. Oh, and I’ll need to buy some snake oil to help with the cure.”

“Carlton!” Roberta gasped, mortified. 

“Oh, come on, Roberta, you can’t expect me to just sit here and listen to this!” He flew to his feet, gesturing down to the oracle, who was watching him with dispassion and what almost looked like pity. “It’s fraud, plain and simple.”

Roberta leaned down to drop a few coins on the bedroll. “Thank you for your time.” She then pushed Carlton in front of her out of the tent. “I can’t believe you would be so rude,” she hissed at him as she stalked back in the direction of her castle.

“And I can’t believe you’re listening to a word she says. You can’t trust some random woman sitting out in a tent just because she spouts some mumbo jumbo about healing.”

“How did she know about your stomach?” 

“If Spencer knows, then half this kingdom knows. Plus, we were arguing about it all last evening. Someone in your castle probably overheard.”

Pushing aside the fact that he thought her people so untrustworthy, Roberta decided to concede some ground. “All right, then, what about the healing in your world? You would have lost that ankle if you had hurt it here. Can’t your healers cure this?”

“I’m not going to do any treatments.”

Roberta nearly tripped over her own cloak. “Why not?”

“Because it wouldn’t do any good.” Carlton’s gaze was focused intently on the path ahead of him. “All it would do is give me a few more months in a hospital with half my stomach cut out and a dozen tubes down my throat. I’d rather just get it over with.”

Roberta stopped walking, blood draining from her face. How could he speak with such indifference about his own life? The clash of how little thought he gave to his own self-worth and the intensity of how much she cared for him was jarring.

“Do you expect me to just watch you die?” she said to his back, tears welling in his eyes.

She saw his shoulders tense for a moment, but he stopped walking and returned to her. “You won’t have to,” he said, moving as if to take her hand but stopping himself. “Just give me a few more days to solve this case, and then I’ll leave. I’ll break the mirror, I promise.” 

Seeing the resignation in his eyes, Roberta felt her frustration and grief dissipate, replaced with an anger unlike anything she had felt before. She brushed past him and continued on up towards her castle.

She marched into the courtyard, Carlton trailing behind her like a scolded dog, and found Gareth polishing his helmet on the steps. “Gareth, help Carlton pack for a journey of a few days and then escort him down to the stables, please.”

“What are you doing?” Carlton asked, eyes widening.

Gareth laid a surprisingly gentle hand on his arm. “Come on, mate. Let’s go get your things.”

“Roberta, don’t you dare do this,” Carlton said, but Roberta ignored him as she started off towards the stables herself.

From what she remembered, the waters of Noth were a few days’ ride away, too far for Carlton in his current state, which meant that she would have to scrounge up some sort of cart for them to use. 

****

Stuffed in the back of a hay-filled cart with his hastily packed bag beside him, Lassiter scowled at Gareth. The henchman stood to the side, one hand resting on the wooden rail. He wasn’t watching his prisoner, but Lassiter didn’t bother trying to make a break for it. He wouldn’t be able to outrun Gareth. The way he felt, he probably couldn’t even escape Roberta with both her legs hobbled.

The lady herself exited the castle then, carrying her own rucksack over her shoulder. “Take care of things while I’m away, please, Gareth.”

Gareth nodded, but he gave her a look Lassiter would almost call worried. “Yeah, all right, but isn’t the deadline tomorrow?”

Roberta hefted her sack into the cart, making the wood vibrate. “I’ll deal with it when I get back.”

Gareth didn’t look reassured, but he nodded and rapped on the side of the cart as Roberta climbed inside. The man driving the contraption flapped his reins, and the horses began to plod forward.

Lassiter turned his glower on Roberta. “What deadline?”

“It’s not important,” she said flippantly, digging through her rucksack. 

She offered him a hunk of bread, but Lassiter ignored it. “You’re kidnapping me. You realize that, right?”

“I know,” Roberta said simply. “But if you’re not going to save your own life, then I will.”

Lassiter flinched as the cart rolled over a rock, sending a bolt of pain through him. “This little trip is probably shortening my life.”

Roberta merely shook her head at him and looked off over the rails of the cart, her eyes distant. 

Lassiter would have continued fighting with her, even one-sidedly, but he soon remembered that in his efforts to be as unhelpful as possible to Gareth as he was packing his bag, he had forgotten to grab his pain medication. The road became rough and rocky, and pain settled deep into Lassiter’s stomach, tightening the muscles of his abdomen until they felt like jagged steel bands. 

Almost worse was the growing panic in his chest as they got farther and farther away from the castle. What would the Chief and O’Hara think when he didn’t show up for work? That he had taken a handful of pills and was lying dead on his bathroom floor? Or that he had run away and abandoned his duty to them and to the force? 

His breathing became rapid as he felt a familiar sensation rising in his throat. “Stop the cart!”

Roberta too called for a stop, but the driver was already pulling back on the reins. The cart hadn’t even come to a standstill before Lassiter was stumbling off of it to lose his breakfast in the dense undergrowth of the woods. 

It was utter agony, far worse than the night out drinking, and Lassiter couldn’t help the guttural noises of pain he made as he finally finished gagging. Taking deep gasping breaths, he swiped a hand across his mouth and froze as it came away streaked with blood.

Roberta had come up behind him to rub at his back, and he looked up at her from his knees. Maybe now she would see what this fruitless journey was costing him. Her eyes went hard and determined, and she hooked her hands beneath his arms to help him up. “Come on. We’ve got to keep going.”

The cart jolted onwards, and Lassiter soon lost all sense of anything except the pain and nausea that wracked his frame. He stared down at his hands, clenched like claws into his sides to keep himself present and sane, and wondered how he could have fallen so far, so fast. He was supposed to have months before he stopped being able to function, but it was as if the sickness itself was rebelling against this journey.

Just a few weeks ago he could never have imagined the betrayal of a body that he had always taken for granted. He had chased suspects down at a dead run for over a mile. He had kept going for days on a few hours of sleep. He had survived cases on nothing but coffee and sheer willpower. And now he couldn’t sit up straight or think clearly for more than a few minutes at a time.

He was barely aware when they stopped to change carts at a small village. It might have been days later for all he knew. An icy rain had began to fall, and he stood shivering miserably beneath the edge of a thatched roof as he waited for Roberta to return. 

She walked up to him a moment later, and he frowned in confusion to see that she was now wearing a rough green dress. “Where’d your armor go?”

She pulled her cloak tighter around herself. “I changed clothes. Come on, I’ve hired us a carriage to take us the rest of the way.”

“Stupid idea to change into that in this weather,” Lassiter muttered as he clamored inside. He was grateful that they now had a roof over their heads. She’d found a blanket somewhere as well, and he begrudgingly allowed her to drape it over them both, telling himself that he was still mad at her and that he did not find any comfort in the feel of her next to him.

Despite the marked improvement in traveling conditions, Lassiter’s own condition continued to worsen as the hours went on. They had to stop twice for him to vomit, and his thoughts became incoherent and confused.

Lassiter was eventually roused out of a thin doze by Roberta’s hand on his shoulder. “Carlton. We’re here.”

He looked blearily out the carriage window. They had stopped at the base of a hill made entirely out of black sand. It wasn’t high or really that steep, but it looked as impassable as Everest to him in that moment. 

Still, Lassiter climbed out without really being aware of what he was doing. Anything to get out of the enclosed space of the carriage. He stood on wavering legs on the sands outside. Roberta came up beside him and placed herself beneath his arm for support. 

He frowned down at her. “Where’d the tracks go?”

She titled them forwards up the hill, grunting as she took on most of his weight. “What tracks, my lord?”

“The armor. They were just here. We need to find out how it got in the saw mill.”

Roberta didn’t respond, and Lassiter felt frantically at his pockets. Did the armor still have his wallet and phone?

His stomach spasmed then, filling his mouth with blood, and he sank to his knees to cough it out onto the ground. Roberta dropped down beside him, wiping at his chin with a cloth. She tugged on his arm to get him moving, but Lassiter barely felt it. His eyes didn’t want to stay open.

A blurry shape that had to be Roberta moved to crouch in front of him. “Come on, Carlton. You have to keep moving. Please. Please, don’t leave me.” 

The desperation in her voice had him clumsily pushing himself to his feet. He would do whatever she asked for however long he was capable. She moved to help him, and they continued to climb.

The smell of sulphur grew strong as they reached the summit, and a thick mist hung in the air. With eyes rapidly losing focus, Lassiter took in what had to be the waters of Noth. Isolated pools of deep orange water stretched before them. In the heavy steam rising from the waters, it was impossible to tell where they ended.

Lassiter sunk to his knees once more, and this time Roberta let him stay down. His fingers scrabbled at the rocks at the edge of the nearest pool until he had one clenched in his fist. There was something inside him. Something eating away at his flesh. If he could just cut it out, then the pain would stop. He moved to bring the jagged rock towards his stomach.

Roberta knocked it out of his hand and began pulling at the laces of his doublet. Lassiter blinked at her, noting with dull surprise that she had removed her dress, leaving only a thin underdress on, but he was in no fit condition to enjoy the view. “What are you doing?”

“It’s disrespectful to take the waters in dirty clothes. And we’ll freeze if we don’t have something dry to wear out of here,” she murmured as she tugged the doublet off his shoulders. 

Lassiter knew that he would never make it down off this mountain, but he didn’t fight her as she removed his breeches, and soon he sat shivering in just his boxers. 

Roberta stepped down into the pool and held out her arms to him. Lassiter stared at her in dull incomprehension for a moment before moving to follow her. There was no point in fighting now. He only hoped that he wouldn’t have to see the hope die in her eyes when this bath did not miraculously heal him.

He nearly fell into the pool and would have gone under had Roberta not caught him. She moved to sit back against the edge of the stone pool, drawing Lassiter with her so that his back was against her chest, his hips gripped by her thighs. 

As he sank lower in the water, his muscles relaxing for the first time in days, she leaned forward to murmur into his ear, “How do you feel?”

“The heat feels good,” Lassiter murmured back, his words slurring.

She pressed a kiss to him temple. “Go to sleep. I won’t let you fall.”

Lassiter barely heard her. His eyes fell closed, and he dropped into a deep well of darkness. 

****

He was kneeling again, this time on smooth marble instead of jagged stone. Lassiter’s eyes opened, and a throne room formed around him. 

He was beside a pillar made of dark marble. The floor too was made of interconnecting marble blocks leading up to stone steps. A figure sat in the throne at the top. 

At first Lassiter thought that his eyes were having trouble focusing again, but as the figure rose to its feet, he could tell that it was made entirely of thick shining liquid, which seemed to gather at its head and then cascade down its form like wax melting off a candle. 

There were no features, and although the body looked vaguely male, there was no way to tell who or what this creature was. It walked down the steps, and its light grew brighter, shimmering out of its liquid form. 

As it drew nearer, Lassiter could feel the power radiating from it. It felt like he was standing at the base of a mountain many, many times larger and more ancient than he was. Sublime in the original sense of the word. It was like the moment right after the start of a firefight, terrifying and enlivening. 

Lassiter cringed back from the creature, and he noted that he was now dressed in his usual slacks, button-down shirt, and tie. But to his shame, they were covered in blood and bile, and he hunched in on himself in humiliation. Blood pooled in his mouth. 

The liquid creature stopped almost a foot away from him. It spoke then in a voice like rocks tumbling down a cliff. “Carlton Lassiter, why have you come?”

Lassiter swallowed hard, trying to clear his throat. “To be healed.” Blood misted the air as he spoke. There was no hiding anything from this being. His thoughts weren’t working well enough to form anything but the truth.

The being seemed to regard him for a moment, then it knelt in front of him. “Then be healed.” Then it pressed its mouth to his. 

It wasn’t a kiss as such. The being didn’t really have lips. It felt more like CPR, actually. The being exhaled, and a flow of molten hot air traveled into Lassiter, filling his lungs almost to bursting. It traveling through the length of his body until it seemed like his entire being was inundated with heat. 

Just when he thought he could bear the sensation no longer, the being began to inhale. The warm air left his feet, traveled up his legs and arms, and settled into his stomach. And there, deep inside him, something wriggled and shifted. 

Lassiter made a sound of shock and his knees would have buckled, but the being grasped him tight by the arms and continued to pull its heat back. There came a sharp tearing sensation in Lassiter’s abdomen, and then he felt something come up through his chest towards his throat. It seemed to have a hundred wriggling arms made of razor wire; it caught at the sides of his stomach and throat as if trying to anchor itself. 

Lassiter began struggling in blind panic as it reached his mouth, his hands pushing helplessly against the being, but it was like trying to shove water away with just his fingers. The horrible squirming thing left him then, and the being closed its mouth around it.

Lassiter was released to collapse to the ground, where he lay gasping and coughing for air for he didn’t know how long. When he was finally able to breathe again, he saw that the being was still kneeling next to him but facing off to the side. Its fist was clenched against the ground, and it seemed to be drawn tightly into itself. 

Lassiter managed to get his trembling muscles to cooperate long enough to reach out for the being, but it was already rising it to its feet with a long exhale.

“What was that?” Lassiter asked, scrambling to sit up. He didn’t dare stand and not only because his legs felt like they wouldn’t support him. 

“The sickness that was consuming you,” the being said. “It can no longer feed on you now.”

“Thank you,” Lassiter managed. It sounded so painfully inadequate in the enormity of what the being had just done for him, but he didn’t know what else he could offer. 

It turned to go back up the steps, but Lassiter hurried to ask, “Is there anything you can tell me about the robberies? How can I bring Madalena to justice? And who robbed her after she robbed the von Falconburgs?”

The being turned back towards him and somehow seemed to regard him with amusement. “Always the detective. Someday soon you will have to decide what that identity is worth to you.” It was silent for so long that Lassiter started to wonder if that was all he was going to get, but then it continued, “The armored vessels are driven by the greed in their surroundings. That is what you will need to know when the time comes.” 

The being then returned to its throne once more. “Return to your companion now. She is waiting for you.” And Lassiter sunk into blackness once again.

****

Roberta tried her hardest to keep watch, but she hadn’t slept in days and was in a state of nervous exhaustion. She didn’t remember dozing, but she jerked awake when she somehow registered that she could no longer feel Carlton against her.

She shot upright, terrified that he had gone under the water, but he was standing a few feet away, eyes wide as he gingerly touched his abdomen.

“Carlton—?” she started to ask, only to let out a surprised squeak as he grabbed her about the waist and pulled her to him. He spun them around through the water, and she was half relieved, half alarmed to hear him laughing. 

“Carlton, what in the world?” she asked as he finally let her feet touch the bottom again. 

In response, he began peppering her face with kisses. “I love you. I love you so much.” 

He kissed her fiercely then, picking her up once more, but Roberta shoved at his shoulder in panic. “Oh my god, you’re still delirious!”

“What? No! It’s gone!” He reached between them to press a hand against his abdomen again. “It doesn’t hurt anymore! And I’m starving, now that I think about it.”

He beamed at her, and Roberta burst into tears. She couldn’t even speak, she was crying so hard. The fear and guilt and panic of the last few days overwhelmed her for a moment, all of it washed over in an intense wave of relief. Watching him suffer, his body failing, had been the hardest thing she’d ever had to do. She had felt like the evilest, more vile creature in existence for forcing him on this journey, and even seeing him now, his dark blue eyes lit with elation, the length of his body strong and firm against hers, was not enough to quell the terror that had gripped her.

Carlton looked vaguely alarmed to be holding a sobbing woman in his arms, but his expression softened and he rested his forehead against hers. “It was amazing, Roberta. There was this throne room and this creature made of glowing liquid.” He trailed off, taking a deep breath. “It took the cancer from me. I don’t know how or what I did to deserve it.”

“Wow,” Roberta breathed, looking down at the waters swirling around her waist with awe. “Are you sure it’s gone?”

He nodded. “Thank you. Thank you for putting up with everything to get me out here.”

Roberta smiled down at him as her hands ran up Carlton’s shoulders, and she bent forward to kiss him this time. 

The kiss turned fiery in an instant, Roberta desperate to prove to herself that he was alive and with her and Carlton more than willing to give her everything she needed. He moved to press her against the side of the pool and froze, eyes flashing with chagrin down to the bubbling water. “We’d better not—”

Roberta realized that they’d been well on their way to disrespecting the waters far more than by wearing travel-worn clothing in them and nodded in dazed agreement. “Yeah, let’s go.”

They climbed out of the pool and hurriedly donned fresh clothing from the rucksack that Roberta had hauled up with them. Carlton looked out over the hot springs as Roberta did up her boots. “Thank you for healing me.” Then he took her hand and led her back down the hill to the waiting carriage.

The ride back to the castle seemed to take far less time than the journey there. Roberta meant to keep watching Carlton to make sure his pain and weakness did not return, but she crashed almost as soon as she was seated inside. She slept the entire way back to the castle tucked into his side, the blanket covering them both. 

She clung to him once they were back inside her rooms. His home looked cold and foreign on the other side of the mirror. “I don’t want you to go. Your world keeps hurting you.”

Carlton’s arms tightened around her for a moment. “It’s just until tomorrow. I have to let the Chief and O’Hara know that I’m okay. And I’m going to take some time off. I have months of vacation time saved up anyway.” He scowled. “And I’m going to have to have more tests run to prove that I’m not still sick. But I’ll be back tomorrow morning, and we can talk about what to do next.”

Roberta kissed him, trying to drown out the fear tightening her muscles. He was so warm, so vital, and she could not describe the joy she felt knowing that he would live. But she had things of her own to settle now that the deadline had passed.

She stood with arms wrapped around herself as the mirror took him away.


	11. Chapter 11

Roberta frowned as she walked through the rows of tents beyond her castle walls. The chaos of the jousting tournament had somehow been organized into neat, precise order while she was gone. Although, she thought as she surveyed the abandoned camp, where was everyone?

She went around the back of the castle and got her answer. The knights and squires marched back and forth in lines before the back steps with Gareth overlooking them from the top. “Keep those lines straight there!” he roared down at them. “It’s like you people want to get massacred.”

Dodging a swinging lance, Roberta jogged up the steps. “What the devil is this?”

“It’s about time you’ve got back. I thought you’d been killed for sure,” Gareth said, glaring at her as if it were somehow her fault. “Is Carlton all right?”

“He is,” Roberta said, feeling as if she were glowing. 

“Good, because we’ve had some trouble here.” Gareth reached into his pocket and removed several sheets of parchment. 

Momentarily forgetting the maneuvering knights below, Roberta scanned them as best as her rudimentary reading skills would allow. 

The first was from the princesses, the handwriting flowing and elegant on scented parchment:

_Dearest Roberta,_

_I couldn’t help but notice that the one-month deadline is today, and you haven’t come riding in with news of our thief’s identity. You have until nightfall. Do not fail us._

_Hugs and kisses,_

_Princesses Charity and Prudence_

Wincing, Roberta flipped to the next one:

_Roberta,_

_You are late. This disobedience will not be tolerated._

_Prudence_

The next one was from Charity, the handwriting no longer elegant but spiky and messy:

_ROBERTA! We have been robbed! Again! Get over here now or we will have your head on a plate._

And finally, a message written on dark-colored parchment:

_So, the Princesses von Falconburg think they can rob me **again** , do they? Tell them that I’m coming to finish this, and that they’d better have their army ready, because not a man, woman, or child will be left when I’m through with them._

_Best,_

_Queen Madalena_

Gareth nodded towards a girl in green tights and a feathered hat waiting in the entryway behind him. She came running forward. “Message for you, Lady Roberta, from her majesties, the princesses Prudence and Charity.” She took in a deep breath, her face turning red. “GET OVER HERE! NOW!”

The knights below startled back a few steps at the sudden scream, and Gareth roared at them, “Hey! Get back in formation!” He turned back to Roberta as the messenger bowed and darted off down the steps. “There’s an army marching this way. That’s why I’ve started training this lot. There’s no chance in hell that we’ll win even a minor skirmish, but we can at least hold them off while you barricade the castle. After that, we can last a few months in a siege before starvation.”

For a moment Roberta felt absolutely nothing; she had poured out every emotion she had over the last few days. She had gambled that Prudence and Charity had forgotten about the deadline, but it seemed her reliance on her ability to be ignored had finally failed her. 

She crumpled the messages in her fist. “Send these men home, Gareth.”

He stared down at her indignantly. “Have you gone daft? Your number’s up, girl.”

“I know. But these men came over here to knock each other off horses with pointy sticks, not die in a hopeless skirmish for me.”

“Oh, and what are you going to do then? Ride out and face them all by yourself? Heroic sacrifices are nice in ballads and tapestries and all, but this is just stupid.”

“Yes,” Roberta said, looking into his eyes. “It is. But this isn’t about me nobly sacrificing myself for chivalry or knighthood. This is about me putting a stop to being used like a plaything by an evil queen and two spoiled princesses.”

“You dying will certainly put a stop to it,” Gareth said. 

Roberta scowled at him. “Yes, thank you, Gareth. You’ve made your objections clear. Now I need you to help me fortify this place. If we approach this right, then I think you’ll be left in charge of everything once I’m gone.” She made to go inside and paused, turning back to him. “Gareth, why aren’t you back with Prudence and Charity already? The investigation’s over, and frankly, even two weeks ago I thought you would have been happy with the outcome.”

Gareth shifted his weight. “I was sorta thinking that I would stay here. I miss me old dungeon back home and all, but I don’t know… It’s more fun out here. It isn’t all just beating up geezers who took one of Prudence’s zingers too personally.” 

Roberta blinked at him, touched that he would have wanted to stay on with her. She could only hope that her choices wouldn’t get him killed as well.

She worked late into the night taking steps to protect her people. Roberta had no intention of letting her castle be razed to the ground, but she knew better than to leave herself vulnerable. The windows and doors were soon fortified. The larders stocked in case a siege was a real possibility. Now that the lords and ladies of the tournament had fled, the castle’s few rooms were available again, and Roberta invited the local villagers to take shelter. 

She spotted Galavant in the main hall, helping to shore up some of the crumbling foundations of the castle, and trotted over to him. “Galavant, have you seen Gwen anywhere? I can’t quite get this buckle.”

Galavant turned from where he’d been hauling a block of stone and stared at her. “What are you wearing?”

“I was trying on my mother’s old armor,” Roberta said, lifting her arms helplessly. “It’s a bit of an antique.”

“What happened to your armor?” Galavant asked as he released the straps on the left pauldron. 

“It’s gone,” Roberta said. She pulled off one of the gauntlets and stretched out her fingers. It was looking like it would be better to go off in a sack dress than be hampered by ill-fitting armor.

She frowned as she recognized a few of the tournament knights helping fix the wall. “I thought I told Gareth to send them home.”

“He did,” Galavant said, hands on his hips. “But some wanted to stay.” His voice grew soft. “You took them in when they had nowhere else to go.”

“They are welcome to stay,” Roberta said, feeling her eyes tear up. 

“Listen, Roberta, are you sure you want to do this? Madalena will tear you apart. I mean, literally, just absolutely rip you to shreds.

Roberta held up a hand before he could go on, wincing. “All right. I get it. But I’ve made my choice. Now I just have to make sure that you all don’t pay for it too.”

She marched off towards her tower, head held high. The illusion of bravery faded as soon as she closed the doors to her empty rooms. The fireplace was cold, the grate piled with ashes. 

Roberta wandered over to her weapons racks, running her fingers along the hilts of her favorites. She went to her bedroom and removed her mother’s old armor, then quietly folded the clothing dislodged by her wild packing before she had left with Carlton. 

Her gaze fell to the portrait of her parents sitting on her seldom-used vanity, and she felt her breathing start to hitch. They had given her everything. A castle and lands. Her sword and armor and title. And what would be left of it all by nightfall tomorrow? She had tried so hard to follow her father’s footsteps and keep to her own business, but it hadn’t worked. 

Her feet found their way over to the mirror without her knowing it. She had considered sending everyone to Carlton’s land, assuming the mirror would let them through, but had discarded the idea after further thought. It seemed enchanted mirrors were easy to come by these days, and it would be easy enough to send soldiers into Carlton’s world where more innocents like Trent Martin would die in a fight that wasn’t their own. 

Fear gripped her then, made her knees go weak. More than anything she wanted her consort right now. To feel his arms around her until she felt safe again. 

She stepped through the mirror. 

****

Lassiter spent a long day at the office wrapping up the mess caused by his kidnapping. To his surprise, there was not a full-scale investigation into his disappearance or potential suicide. It would seem that someone, and Lassiter knew exactly who, had hacked into his email account and sent a message to the Chief that he was going to visit his sister. 

Lassiter was grateful that he wasn’t being put into a locked facility the second he stepped through the door. And the boys that Gareth had nearly skewered hadn’t been caught or come forward, so the Chief had seemed more willing to let his drunken indiscretion slide, given his illness. In the end, she had seemed relieved to give him his requested time off. 

Lassiter paused in front of the mirror, momentarily pausing in his mulling over his feelings on Chief Vick. He frowned in disappointment when Roberta did not materialize on the other side. It was late, and she was likely asleep. He entertained a brief fantasy of joining her but dismissed it after a few moments. She had been exhausted when they’d returned home from the waters of Noth. She deserved a night of uninterrupted sleep. 

And so Lassiter went to bed alone. 

He’d only lain there for a few minutes when he was startled out of his vaguely drifting thoughts by the sound of his bedroom door opening. 

He reached for the gun beside his bed, only to relax upon seeing the dim outline of Roberta walk into his room. He grinned as she crept up onto the bed. “Roberta. Missing me already?” He flushed at the cheesy line. 

He noticed then that he could feel her shaking, and his smile died. “What’s wrong?” He reached out for her, only to suddenly find himself with his arms full of the knight.

Brushing a hand down over hair, he tried to keep the fear out of his voice. She needed him to be strong for her. “What’s happened?”

She only kept her arms locked tightly around him for another moment, then she drew back to look him in the eyes. Her gaze took in his features as if memorizing them, her mouth parted slightly, her breathing quickening. 

Lassiter made to repeat his question a bit more forcefully this time, but she pressed her mouth to his then in a demanding kiss, moving up on her knees to straddle him. Her hands reached for the bottom of his t-shirt and began roaming across his stomach and up towards his chest.

Stunned by the sudden rush of sensation, Lassiter managed, “Roberta, what—?”

“Please,” she interrupted, grasping the bottom of his shirt. “Please…I need…”

“Okay,” he gasped out. “Okay.” Then he raised his arms over his head so she could get his shirt off of him. His pajama pants followed. 

What happened next was powerful and intense, but Lassiter couldn’t say that he’d enjoyed it very much, terrified as he was that something had happened to Roberta. Had someone hurt her? Was this her way of breaking up with him? Or maybe this was just some weird courting ritual in her world. His mind was almost jittering with doubts. 

As Roberta came down, he sat up beneath her and began pressing soft kisses to her forehead and mouth, trying to slow down for a moment. He ran his hands up and down her arms.

She finally opened her eyes, and he bent his head to look into them. “Tell me what’s wrong. Did someone hurt you?” His scrambled emotions instantly turned to rage. He would hunt down anyone who had hurt her and end them.

She shuddered on top of him and whispered, “I’m scared.”

“Of what?” he asked, going very still. 

“Of failing.”

Lassiter felt lightheaded with relief, and his tense muscles relaxed. He had dealt with fear of failure every day for the last…all his life and was more than familiar with the sensation. He smiled at her, burying his hands in her hair. “I know what that’s like. But you don’t have to be afraid anymore. Even if we don’t solve this case, then I’ll help you with the consequences. We’ll get through this, together.” 

He rolled her over then and kissed her deeply. And as he did his best to prove to her with his body how much he loved her, Lassiter knew that there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for this woman.

*****

Roberta lay still beside Carlton for some time, feeling the heat of his body against hers, the warmth of his breath against the back of her neck as he slept. Her chest tightened in preparation, then she extracted herself from his arms and slid out of the blankets. She dressed quietly, unable to look at him. It felt like she was physically pulling off one of her own limbs. 

She closed the bedroom door behind her and returned to the mirror. She stepped back through and was startled badly when a voice behind her said, “Why’d you leave?”

Roberta whirled back around to face the mirror, heart in her throat. He was standing back in his hallway, rubbing sleepily at one eye. “Carlton! I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You could have stayed the night. I was going to make us breakfast in the morning.” He held out a hand to her. “Come back to bed.”

Roberta instinctively almost took his hand, but then her eyes feel on his ribs, still so prominent from his illness, and her resolve strengthened itself. She shook her head. “I can’t. I have to go.”

Carlton’s eyes narrowed. “Go where?”

“To meet Prudence and Charity.” 

“I’ll come with you.” He made to step through, but Roberta pulled a sword free from the closest rack and pointed it through the mirror, the tip just breaking the surface.

Carlton came to a stop and looked down with wide eyes at her wavering sword. “What are you doing?”

“I have to do this alone.”

“But we were going to do this together. This was our investigation.” His expression was stricken.

“There isn’t any more investigation, Carlton,” she said softly. “Madalena and Prudence and Charity have been robbing each other this whole time. Madalena’s army is marching here even now. They never cared whether I found the thief. I was just a catalyst to start a war.”

“No,” he shook his head vehemently. “It can’t end like this. If we just think, we can come up with some sort of plan—”

“I already have a plan. If I give myself up, then maybe my people will be spared.” Her gaze took in his hallway and living room with a bittersweet pang. “I don’t think they will bother sending anyone after you, but please, please, be careful, Carlton.”

She grasped the corner of the mirror, vision going watery. 

Carlton’s eyes widened further. “Wait! Roberta, no—!” 

He reached out towards her, heedless of the sword, but Roberta pulled down on the corner of the frame, sending the mirror crashing to the floor in hundreds of shards. 

She stared down at the world in literal pieces at her feet and couldn’t help the sob that escaped her. She placed a hard hard across her mouth and bent over until her shaking stopped and she felt nothing but a sense of empty inevitability. 

The door behind her cracked open, and she turned to see Gareth peer inside. “We need to get moving.” His eyes fell on the shattered mirror. “Did you have to do that? Carlton’s not going to understand—”

“Shut it,” Roberta snarled, her tenuous control snapping. “Don’t ever speak to me again about what I just did.” 

“All right,” Gareth said, raising his hands in an attempt to placate her. “You ready to go?”

Roberta replaced her sword on its rack and then made her way downstairs. The windows were boarded over, the outer gates braced for attack. 

She mounted her last remaining horse and then held out her wrists for Gareth to shackle. As the sun began to appear over the edge of the trees, they rode out of her lands for the last time.

The guards at the gates of the von Falconburg castle recognized her immediately and charged forward to grasp her horse’s reins. Roberta herself was yanked out of the saddle. She hit the ground on her side, gasping as she felt something in her arm crack. 

She heard Gareth yelling, “Oy! That’s my prisoner!” before a metal-clad foot came right at her head. And that was the last thing she saw before everything went black.


	12. Chapter 12

Lassiter scrabbled at the pieces of broken glass, breathing rapidly as he tried to fit them back together. It was no use. The mirror had shattered into hundreds of tiny pieces, and he’d been at this for hours and his shaking hands could barely grasp them. He cursed as another shard cut into his thumb and tossed it down the hall with all his strength. 

He collapsed back against the wall, bowing his head and dragging his fingers over his hair. Stupid Roberta, stupid, stupid Roberta and her damned knight in shining armor martyrdom complex. He wanted to murder her. 

He forced himself to take a deep, slow breath. Okay, okay, he could get through this. He could save her. He just had to think. 

His utter helplessness crashed over him once again. The only way he knew of to get back to Roberta’s world was the mirror, and how would he even go about getting another one of those? Just start dialing up every magician listed on Craigslist?

His head slowly rose. He may not have access to any wizards, but there was one person he knew who just might have some supernatural abilities. 

Lassiter shoved himself up off the floor and ran for his bedroom.

*****

He charged into SBPD twenty minutes later. Shawn was sitting on the side of O’Hara’s desk, digging through her pencil cup. O’Hara rose to her feet to intercept him as he approached. “Hey, Carlton, what are you doing here? I thought you were on leave? Are you doing okay?” Her brow furrowed as she studied his appearance.

Lassiter ground his teeth at the questions and instead just grasped her by the shoulders and moved her out of his way. He stepped past her into Spencer’s space. “I need your help. Please.”

Shawn’s eyes widened at the desperation in his voice and he hopped down off the desk. “It’s cool, Jules. He was supposed to stop by and give me instructions for watering his plants while he’s gone. Talking to them. Making sure they’re tucked in at night…” He trailed off upon seeing Lassiter’s expression. “Let’s talk somewhere more private.”

The interrogation rooms were full, so they ended up in the records room. Lassiter began pacing past the rows of file cabinets as Shawn swung the door closed. “Dude, what’s going on? Gareth said that Roberta had dragged you off to see some sort of magical hot tub.”

The fact that Shawn had apparently broken into his house again barely registered as a blip on Lassiter’s mind. He waved off the question. “It worked. I’m fine.”

“Well, if you’ve come to get put back on duty, then you’re seriously going about it the wrong way. I don’t know if you noticed, but your shirt is buttoned up wrong and you’re wearing two different pairs of shoes.”

Lassiter glanced down at his feet with a frown before shaking his head. “Look, Spencer, I need your help. Roberta’s in trouble, and the mirror’s broken, and I don’t know what to do.”

Shawn’s gaze was focused on Lassiter’s hands, which were still bleeding in places. “What do you want me to do?” 

“Can you tell me if there are any other enchanted mirrors anywhere else in this world? I don’t care if they’re at the bottom of the ocean inside the Titanic.”

Shawn grimaced and turned away, one hard moving to almost touch his temple. He spun back around. “The saw mill! The armor used that wall in the bathroom!”

“No, I already thought of that. We tried the wall after we killed the armor. It didn’t work.”

Shawn still had his hand pressed to his head. “But there’s another suit of armor now. The one from Madalena’s place.”

“We have no idea if this new armor has even set foot in that saw mill. Let alone if it’s there now.”

“I’m sensing that it is. Jules got a call yesterday from the guy that owns the saw mill. He was complaining that we still had people trespassing on his land.”

Lassiter didn’t even wait for Shawn to finish his sentence. He was out of the records room and trotting back up the stairs before he even realized it.

He had just started his car when the passenger door opened, and Shawn slid into the seat next to him. Lassiter just gave him a glance before throwing the car into gear and peeling out of the parking lot.

****

Lassiter walked slowly around the front of the car, casting a wary glance up at the main building of the saw mill. The windows were dark, with no sign of movement inside, but he refused to abandon hope just yet.

Shawn exited the passenger side, eyeing the “no trespassing” sign now embedded in the front grill. “Have you ever considered driving in a demolition derby? We got some pretty sweet air coming up that access road.”

Lassiter motioned for him to be quiet as he climbed the stairs to the upper deck. The same ones that Roberta had gone charging up not that long ago.

Shawn followed him, speaking in a whisper now. “Hey, so one thing about this new armor strikes me as weird.”

“One thing?” Lassiter muttered. “It’s a walking suit of armor that eats jewelry, Spencer.”

“Yeah, but we’ve already seen that before. It’s like, if you’re going to enchant something to steal, why not try something original? A chest of drawers maybe. Or a bathtub.”

Lassiter swung the door open a few inches to get a look inside, but all was still and dark. “Does any of this have a point?”

“Probably. But what I’m wondering is, why would the armor steal from Madalena during her birthday party?”

“I don’t know,” Lassiter pulled out his gun and triple checked that it was loaded. “Maybe the thief knew that there was a party going on and that she would be out of her rooms then.”

“Yeah, but right at the exact moment that you and Roberta were in there?”

Lassiter frowned down at the wooden boards of the deck, trying to get his overworked brain to focus. “Roberta said that Prudence and Charity were robbing Madalena back. So she at least thinks that the new armor came from them.”

“So someone tipped them off that you two would be there. And not only that but somehow was able to tell them exactly when you were in her bedroom.”

Lassiter’s eyes widened, and he felt his hands clench into fists. “Gareth,” he muttered, voice murderous. “It all makes sense. He’s Prudence and Charity’s henchman. He was probably reporting back to them on everything we did.”

Shawn looked dubious. “I don’t think so.”

“What, just because you have a man-crush on him? He’s a sociopath, Spencer.”

“I know that, but I just don’t think he double crossed us. He genuinely liked Roberta. And how would he have gotten word to Prudence and Charity at the party? I was with him the whole time.”

“That will be the first thing I ask him once I get my hands on him,” Lassiter vowed, pulling open the saw mill door.

He stepped into the large room with Shawn right behind him. The cavernous gloom of it made his hair stand on end, and his ankle—which, now that he thought about it, hadn’t hurt once since taking the waters—gave a phantom pulse of pain. 

The mill owner had apparently taken Lassiter’s threats about safety codes to heart because the room was mostly empty. The saw blade in the floor conveyor belt was gone, as was most of the other machinery. Even the stacks of logs had been moved to the side of the room and secured. 

Which meant that the suit of armor standing at attention in the far corner of the room wasn’t hard to spot.

Lassiter raised his gun, but it didn’t move. Although he couldn’t be certain, it looked like the armor that had robbed Madalena. Light silver metal gleamed in the thin streams of light making its way in through the windows. 

Shawn stood on his toes to look over Lassiter’s shoulder. “What do we do now, Scoob?”

Lassiter glanced back at him, his mouth forming the barest skeleton of a smile. “How much money do you have on you?”

Only three dollars, as it turned out. So Lassiter gave Shawn three twenties he had in his wallet plus a handful of change, and while the psychic cautiously approached the armor, Lassiter made his way towards the bathroom.

“Hey, tin can!” Shawn called. “Want to see me make it rain?” He raised his hand with a flourish to drop a dollar bill on the floor.

The armor’s helmet creaked as it turned towards Shawn, then it slowly clomped forward, hand outstretched. 

Lassiter kept on eye on the two as he stepped inside the bathroom, although what he would do if things went south, he didn’t know. The bathroom wall had been cleaned, and Lassiter’s heart raced faster as he reached out to touch his reflection. His palm pressed up against the surface. The door was closed. 

Lassiter pounded a fist against the wall, then turned back towards the outer room. It looked like he was going to have to do this the hard way.

Shawn was now dropping pennies and nickels onto various surfaces and then darting away as the armor clomped over to stuff them into its helmet. Lassiter waited until Shawn was clear and then opened fire on the armor’s back.

It turned immediately, and he could almost feel its attention lock onto him before it marched towards him.

“What are you doing?” Shawn yelled at him, tossing the remaining coins at the armor’s head.

“The mirror’s only open when the armor’s near it,” Lassiter said, backing into the bathroom as the armor approached. He looked over its should at Shawn. “I’ll come back if I can.”

“Wait, Lassie—!” Shawn called, but the armor was upon him then, and Lassiter didn’t hear the rest. 

It reached for his gun, but he yanked it back behind him and locked his hand around the armor’s arm. Throwing his weight backward, he pulled hard on the gauntlet. The armor toppled forward into him, sending both of them falling into the other side of the mirrored wall. 

Lassiter’s back hit a hard stone floor, the armor collapsing partially on top of him. It fell to pieces against the flagstones, its helmet rolling onto its side to stare Lassiter in the face. He shoved it away from him and scrambled to his feet.

He was in a large stone chamber packed with random objects. Piles of knives, broken cups, shredded books, items of clothing both medieval and modern—he even saw a few iPods—lay haphazardly about the room. 

Lassiter spun around in a circle, trying to get his bearings, and came face to face with none other than Wondrous Sal and what could only be another wizard, this one old and wizened compared to Sal’s weaselly appearance. 

They all gaped at each other for a moment before Sal spoke, “Well, it’s certainly never brought back one of these before.”

Lassiter brought his gun to bear on the two men. “You’re both going to tell me exactly what’s going on here right now.”

The older wizard gave the weapon an unimpressed look. “What are you going to do with that? Throw it at us?”

Lassiter turned in one clean motion and shot the fallen helmet through the forehead. The sound was deafening in the stone chamber, and the helmet flew across the room to collapse a pile of shoes.

Both wizards raised their hands in surrender. 

Lassiter gestured at the other wizard with the gun. “Let’s start with you. Who are you?”

“Gordon the Enchanter.” He hesitated before adding, “I enchant things.”

“You don’t say. Like thieving suits of armor, for example?”

“Yes, that’s right. But I didn’t make it to be a thief,” Gordon said, fidgeting. “It was supposed to help around the kitchen. You know, eat scraps and whatnot. But Queen Madalena saw it being more useful elsewhere.”

“Such as other people’s jewelry boxes.”

“Yes, well, apparently, she had some rivalry with the von Falconburg princesses.” He gave Wondrous Sal a morose look. “I really don’t understand women.”

Lassiter glanced back over his shoulder at the mirror on the wall behind him. “Why were you sending it through to my world? It made a man fall off a cliff.”

“And I’m very sorry about that.” Gordon said, hands held out at his sides. “I popped over when I first spelled the mirror, and I thought it was just a huge abandoned hut in a forest.”

“But why send it there in the first place? Why not just keep the armor here?”

“So here’s the thing, the suits of armor tend to go a little crazy when they stay here. Just eating absolutely everything. Rocks, pieces of furniture, small animals…” He trailed off, grimacing. “And the more they eat, they hungrier they get.”

“Mine don’t do that,” Wondrous Sal said, giving him a superior look.

“Well, mine don’t fall to pieces as soon as someone breathes on them,” Gordon snapped back.

Lassiter turned his attention to Wondrous Sal. “Wait, you created this thing? I thought you were just the mirror guy.”

Sal started to respond only to be interrupted by a snort from Gordon. “He’s hardly been doing anything at all. He was only brought on last week. This whole thing was my operation.” He saw the look Lassiter was giving him and flinched. “But I was only acting under orders.”

Lassiter looked back to Wondrous Sal. “And just who brought you on last week?”

“Prudence and Charity found me. Had me carried off to their castle in the middle of the night to make them their own enchanted armor and traveling mirror. And then day before yesterday, they brought this wannabe magical chef here.”

“You’re just jealous that my enchanted pepper grinder idea actually worked out pretty well once everyone stopped sneezing—”

As the two wizards starting bickering, Lassiter frowned down at the floor in thought. So, he was in Prudence and Charity’s castle, and it appeared that they and Madalena had teamed up, at least for now. But why? And why did they want to drag Roberta into the middle of it? 

He shook his head, trying to silence the clanging in his ears from the gunshot, and realized that the noise was not in his head but was coming from the door on the other side of the room. 

“Hey, nutjobs!” he said, getting the wizards’ attention back on him. “What’s through that door there?”

Gordon cast an anxious look in that direction. “Remember how I said that the suits tend to go a little crazy if they stay in the castle?” He walked over to the door and pulled it open before Lassiter could stop him. “These are how we found out about that.”

Lassiter came up cautiously behind him and peered out the door. They were up on a stone platform, and in the room down below, five black knights marched about in cages. Their visors gnashed open and shut. Some appeared to be gnawing on the bars. 

Shuddering, Lassiter tried to get his horror under control. The way that they moved was unnervingly human-like. 

Lassiter spotted an empty cage near the bottom of the stairs leading down the platform, and he grinned as an idea took hold. He grasped both wizards by their upper arms and hauled them downstairs, ignoring their cries of protest. “Would you both calm down? I’m not going to feed you to the armor. Which is more than you deserve after what happened to Trent Martin.”

He tossed them into the cage and slammed it shut, the lock clicking into place.

Lassiter returned upstairs and took a few minutes to pull on a doublet out of the pile of stolen clothes so that he wouldn’t look as conspicuous. Something inside him relaxed just a fraction as he did up the buckles. The pull of the leather across his shoulders was starting to become as familiar as the feel of his holster. 

He didn’t even bother trying the mirror on the wall. Even if it worked, he didn’t want to bring Spencer into this. Something told him that he wouldn’t be going back to Santa Barbara. 

He went to the door that didn’t have raving suits of armor behind it and peered out. A short flight of steps leading up to a courtyard lay just beyond. A few soldiers walked past, but it seemed quiet out, so Lassiter slipped out the door and headed up the steps. 

He had a vague hope that most castles were laid out similar to each other. Roberta’s castle, although much, much smaller than this one, also had a stables inside the courtyard. Which hopefully meant that the front doors were around the corner. 

He walked forward, trying to look as if he belonged there, and immediately turned back. A horde of fancily dressed people, some of whom he recognized from Roberta’s ball, was entering the main hall. He couldn’t risk them recognizing him as well.

He paced back towards the other side of the courtyard. Maybe there was a window he could climb through.

A hand grasped his arm as he passed by the stables and pulled him inside. Lassiter had his weapon up and ready before he even fully regained his balance.

Galavant looked down the barrel with crossed eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Holding a gun to your face,” Lassiter responded evenly. “What are you doing here?”

“Okay, I don’t know what a gun is, but can we please get it out of my face?” 

Galavant nudged the barrel with a finger, and Lassiter allowed it to drop to chest height. “You didn’t answer my question. What are you doing here?”

“The same as you. Trying to save Roberta.”

Lassiter narrowed his eyes. “Not trying to get back together with Madalena?”

“Oh, is she here?” Galavant said all too nonchalantly, before caving under the detective’s look. “Yeah, all right, so I wanted to see her again. I thought maybe I might still have some influence on her. I mean, our years together have to have meant something, right?” He gave Lassiter an imploring smile.

Lassiter sighed, the memory of how he had been during his separation with his ex-wife coming to mind. But he wouldn’t have listened to anyone telling him to move on back then either. So instead, he clapped the knight on the shoulder. “We’ll keep that as an option. Right now you need to help me find Gareth. I know he’s here.”

“Yeah, all right.” The knight gestured for Lassiter to follow him outside of the stables. “We can get in through the kitchens.”

Soon enough they were walking along one of the upper hallways inside. They rounded a torch-lit corner when Galavant suddenly ducked through the nearest door, pulling Lassiter after him.

Finding himself squeezed into a tiny storage closet, Lassiter glared at Galavant as he forced the other man’s hand free of his arm. “Would you stop doing that?!”

“Shhh,” Galavant murmured, nodding his head at the door.

Voices could be heard coming towards them, and Lassiter sucked in a breath as he heard Gareth’s familiar accent. 

They drew closer, and through the crack in the door he could see Gareth walking beside a middle-aged woman wearing a gold gown with chains of diamonds woven through her hair. “Is Madalena coming down soon or not?”

“She’s already in there,” Gareth replied before pulling to a stop just outside their door. “But before we go in, I just have a quick favor to ask. I’ve served you faithfully for years now, and I’ve done a good job being your henchman. Brought in the prisoner in chains myself and all.”

“Three days after the deadline,” the woman—Lassiter would put money on it being Charity, judging by her ostentatious earrings—said. 

“I thought she was going after the thief. But I was wondering if I could have the Steingass castle and lands to look after. You could have someone loyal to you in there.” 

Lassiter’s vision went red and his hand tightened around the grip of his gun. If that wasn’t motive, he didn’t know what was. He must have made a move for the door, because Galavant jerked him back further into the closet. 

Charity paused, looking around. “What was that noise?”

Gareth continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “So how about it?”

Charity turned her attention back to him with a roll of her eyes. “Fine. You can have people killed for us just about anywhere, I suppose. And to be honest, Gareth, you’ve always done such excellent work.”

There was a long pause before the henchman eyed her in confusion. “Thanks?”

Charity stared at him then looked beside herself with a startled expression. “Oh, sorry, I was setting up Prudence to take a shot at you. I forgot she wasn’t here.” Laughing, she swept through the door across the hall.

Gareth turned on his booted foot in an instant and flung open the closet door. “Could you two be any more stupid? How did you even get in here?”

It took Lassiter a moment to free himself from the closet, but once he managed to stagger out into the hall, he shoved the henchman back against the wall. “You traitorous, lying bastard!”

“Oy! I’m no traitor. Roberta told me to bring her in.” 

Well, that certainly sounded like her, but Lassiter didn’t let up the pressure his forearm against Gareth’s chest. “What was that just now about Castle Gareth then?”

“Also part of Roberta’s plan,” Gareth said, pushing Lassiter away with disconcerting ease. “Or would you rather Prudence and Charity put some poncy lord in there who will have the staff executed for overcooking his eggs? Or better yet, have the entire castle torn down?”

Lassiter growled in frustration, tightening his grip on his weapon. “Well, what about what happened at the birthday party? You tipped the psycho princesses off that we were in Madalena’s room.”

Gareth frowned down at him. “What? How would I do that?”

“Magic,” Lassiter said, pointing a finger at him. It sounded stupid as soon as he said it, but he had no idea how anything worked in this world. 

Gareth crossed his arms. “I didn’t even give reports to Prudence and Charity when I was living with Roberta. They didn’t ask. I don’t think they really cared. There’s something bigger going on here, and I don’t like not knowing what it is.” He started back down the hall in the opposite direction. “Come on.”

The wall turned into a railing with a view down to the throne room about twenty feet down. Gareth nodded down below, and Lassiter came up beside him. He cast his eyes about the room and felt as if his stomach had been washed out with ice water.

The throne room was already half full of waiting spectators, all gawking at Roberta, who was slumped on the floor in the center of the room with her hands shackled and chained to a loop in the floor. Blood dripped down her forehead from a cut near her hairline. 

Lassiter’s fists clenched the railing so hard that the wood creaked.

“They’re putting her on trial in a few minutes,” Gareth murmured. “So if you’re going to do something about it, you need to do it now.”

Galavant rested a hand on Lassiter’s shoulder. “You should give a heroic speech.” When both Lassiter and Gareth turned to stare at him, he continued, “Wait until everyone is gathered, then go down there and declare your love for her. Everyone will see that you are pure of heart and noble in intentions, and they’ll have to let her go.”

“What kind of fairy tale crap is that?” Gareth exclaimed. “He needs to go in there sword swinging and start cutting the bastards down.”

“How is that not going to get him killed?” Galavant asked. 

“At least my way he’ll look like a real man before he dies.”

“Would you both please shut up?” Lassiter said, releasing his hold on the railing. He was not going to do the whole big dramatic speech thing. It was too Spencer. Of course, if Roberta were in his shoes, she would immediately rush down there to sacrifice her life for his. 

What the hell had happened to the whole being a side character and staying away from major conflicts thing? Now it was all duels to the death and ignoring what was becoming increasingly apparent was a life or death deadline to solve the case in favor of going off to visit a hot spring. 

His dropped his head down to look at his mismatched shoes, the pressure sock just visible below the hem of his slacks. There was no healing deity there to save them now. 

A distant voice seemed to speak in his mind then, vaguely echoing through his memories. _The armored vessels are driven by the greed in their surroundings. That is what you will need to know when the time comes._

Lassiter’s eyes widened, and he raised his head. Now wasn’t the time to think like a psychic consultant or a knight with a martyrdom complex or a psychopathic henchman. Carlton Lassiter was a cop who knew every protocol in the book. And according to protocol, an officer should always call in backup before entering a perilous situation. 

Giving Roberta’s form one final look, he turned to start back down the hall. “Come on. I’ve got an idea.”


End file.
